


fly great escapes with you

by orphan_account



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Discord - Freeform, Eventual Meetup, F/F, F/M, Gaming, Happy Ending, M/M, Multi, Newt's A Streamer, Slow Burn, Thomas is an Idiot, because im a sucker for those, extremely slow oh my lord these boys are daft, lots of frypan love, so many discord conversations holy heck, the game they play mostly is fortnite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 06:36:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18654928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: [Mama][Newt]: Minho, I most definitely will revoke your admin powers again. Don’t testes.[Mama][Newt]: Bloody hell. Don’t test me.*[K-Track-hoes][Brenda]: newton your gay is showing[Mama][Newt]: You know I prefer bisexy, Bren. My bisexy is showing.OR, the one where Thomas is an idiot, Newt is a streamer, and the world keeps on turning.





	1. little precious has a natural observation for temptation

**Author's Note:**

> wow, hi! i began writing this months ago!! i kept saying i was gonna post this, wait on it, keep writing, yadda yadda. so for now, this is what i'm posting. i'm still writing a lot more as i go, but i'm curious to everyone's reactions of what i have written so far!! so please leave your lovely comments to make the chapters come quicker ;)
> 
> that being said, i must say this is not edited in the slightest (i know, please, i'm sorry). if there are any glaring mistakes that make the writing not readable, i am so sorry for my inability to beta my own work.
> 
> please enjoy :)

“I told you to wait for me — Thomas, jesus,” Frypan shouted from the top of the steps, running down and nearly tripping face first, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. He stopped at Thomas’ side, panting, punching him in the arm. “ _Asshole_.”

They started walking then, Frypan linking his arm with Thomas’ so they didn’t separate, a ritual whenever it’s the two of them walking through jam-packed streets.

“No you didn’t.” Thomas felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, so he tugged it out, and covered his mouth, stifling a laugh. “Ooooh, maybe you did.”

“Maybe you did,” Frypan copied, narrowing his eyes in Thomas’ direction. “You’re lucky I didn’t have to run far. You know I hate physical activity.”

Thomas halted, turning his head to look at Fry, who grinned toothily. “You stole that line from me, you dickhead.”

“You didn’t wait for me. We’re even. Also, I actually hate physical activity. You say it to sound edgy and then run six miles without dying.” Frypan started walking so Thomas followed, both of them aware that pausing for too long could cause a fight. It was best to keep walking in the city, a tip they learned mutually in the first week of being here.

“It was an accident!” Thomas ignored the second part of his statement because, yeah, it was true. They swerved between a couple of nearly-naked women with paint on their breasts, who hollered at them to stop and cup a tit or take pictures. Neither of them do, not fazed by naked women in the slightest, at least not anymore. Frypan, being that he was in a relationship, and Thomas, being that he knew he’d have to pay them. The only time he liked being naked with women, or men, was in the bedroom.

That made him sound like a prude, but. Okay, maybe he was a bit of a prude. Minho did get him that stripper for his nineteenth birthday last year, so he counted that as less-prude and more deviant. He couldn’t even recall the last time he had sex with someone that he wasn’t in a committed relationship with.

“Did you hear about the snowstorm we’re getting next week? Three inches. In _September_.” s kicked a rock on the ground, and the both of them watched it skid across the sidewalk and hit the back of a middle-aged man’s foot.

Thomas tugged Frypan against the building they’re walking next to so it looked like the man in front of them did it, and he allowed the man to  gain a few feet on them before they move, Thomas nodding in Frypan’s direction. “Yeah, uh, I’m not ready,” Thomas admitted, looking longingly at the snow-free grounds. He knew they wouldn’t last like that, had seen the amount of snow that could fall in short-periods of time.

To say he was excited would be a complete overstatement.

He remembered first arriving in the city from Florida with Minho and Frypan, glad to be in New York City or the _Big Apple_ — which he learned fairly quickly that native New Yorkers did not call it that, and he recalled autumn passing by like a summer breeze. He even had memories of messaging his parents on how eager he was for it to snow.

And then it did. A whole three feet; the first snowstorm Thomas, Minho, and Frypan had experienced, and that was the last time he was jumping for  joy over snow in the city.

“We’ll be fine. As long as you don’t wear your sneakers — the ones with holes in them, _shut up_ , I know you love them, but they don’t suffice for snow boots Thomas,” Frypan stressed to Thomas’ pout.

“They’re my favorite...” Thomas let out a groan as Frypan pulled them so they crossed the street while the crosswalk signal was red, a car honking at them and stopping short in their wake. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

Frypan rolled his eyes and pinched Thomas’ side, provoking a shriek from Thomas’ lips. “Oh shove off. You do the same when you’re running late, so stop acting high and mighty to jaywalking.”

“Heeey, I’m not high and mighty! I acknowledge the fact that one day someone isn’t going to stop and we’re going to get hit.” Thomas sidled through a slow-moving couple, checking his watch for the time and stopped at the next crosswalk. This one’s busier than the last so Frypan let them wait.

“Let them pay our tuition. We don’t get much aid as is, so I’ll gladly get hit if that means I don’t have to pay.”

Thomas laughed and smiled slyly. “Fry — that’s not how it works, man. We’d likely be the ones getting in trouble, because we didn’t obey the sign.”

“But we got hit!” Frypan weaved them through the streets with ease. Thomas blamed it on the fact that Frypan was born in Orlando, living there most of his life before he moved to their small, rinky-dink town, so he had more practice. “Theoretically speaking, we should be getting our tuitions paid.”

The clouds opened up and a patch of rain blanketed them in gentle caresses. Unfortunately on Thomas' part, he left his hooded jacket at their dorm, so he removed the beanie from his pocket and pulled it over his head. He kept one on him at all times, in case of situations like this, the weather in Florida preparing him. His hair turned into a ball of fluff when wet, something absolutely no one would ever want to see. Plus, Frypan made fun of him, so that was a con.

“Wanna stop for food while the rain lets up?” Thomas was already being dragged in the direction of Applebee's, a cheaper solution in the city with their two-for-twenty special. Especially for students on a budget.

“We have food at the dorm—” Thomas was cut off by Frypan opening the door to Applebee’s and tugging him inside with a grunt, letting his hood fall off as Thomas peeled off his beanie and shook out his hair. “If this wasn’t cheap-esque, I’d fight you.”

Frypan cackled. “Cheap-esque? That’s not even a word, Thomas.” He got a buzzer from the hostess, even though the wait was less than five minutes because they were a small party, and he stumbled towards a seat with his hand grasping Thomas' wrist so Thomas fell in line with him.

“I made it up, like how you made up _slinthead_ and acted as if it was a real word in the dictionary for the first six months I knew you.” Thomas pinched Frypan in the thigh at the memory of being played, embarrassment tinging his cheeks.

“Maybe if you would’ve checked, then you wouldn’t have red cheeks right now.” The device buzzed in Frypan's hand. Three minutes. Frypan whispered something to the hostess and they were seated in the far corner of the restaurant, close to the bathrooms and pretty far away from the bar. “You use the word all the time now, so, I win.”

“What was that?” Thomas picked up the menu, ignoring Frypan, turning towards the two-for-twenty page. He and Frypan always got the same entrees, but never the same appetizer as the time prior. He would get the triple bacon burger with cheese and Frypan got the chicken tenders. They shared every time.

Frypan did the same, shaking his head. “Nothing. Want the sticks? We didn’t have them last time, so.”

If it wasn’t a ritual, Thomas would get mozzarella sticks every time. He loved cheese, weirdly, and ate it on just about everything — that it tasted good on. He learned the hard way in elementary school when baking with his mom, who warned him that shredded cheddar cheese didn’t work well on chocolate-chip cookies. To this day, he still had nightmares about the taste because he threw up six times before it was out of his system. His mom never let him live it down.

“Yeah,” Thomas replied, his hands immediately going for the device to order the appetizer and their drinks. He loved the devices they kept on the table. Him and Frypan, whenever they were bored, would play the matchmaker game to see how compatible they were. Turned out that each time, they knew each other very little for how close they claimed to be. 

The waiter came not long after they began a round of matchmaker, Thomas forgetting that Frypan loved Jay-Z and Frypan forgetting that Thomas loved Britney Spears with all of his heart. They ordered their food from the waiter, Thomas flashing him a blinding smile, eliciting a blush and small smile in return.

“You’re such a flirt for someone who doesn’t want to date,” Frypan said with a laugh, kicking at Thomas’ leg under the table, smirking lazily.

“Who said I didn’t want to date?” Thomas frowned, tapping his fingers on the table. What was Frypan talking about? He was lonelier than the last chip in a Pringles can.

The waiter came back out with their drinks, placing their cokes on table, Frypan’s with a lime instead of a lemon. The faint redness still lingered on the waiter’s face as he left, Frypan’s eyes meeting Thomas’ with a _that’s what I mean, man_ look.

“Shut up,” was all Thomas said, sulkily sipping on his coke.

A kid from the table behind them flung a straw wrapper over the divider and it landed in the middle of their table. Frypan snickered, holding his hands up as a retreat sign. “Just sayin’, man. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, comfortable silence, before Frypan spoke up, “Thomas, I think I’m in love.”

“With Zart–” Thomas was cut off by Frypan's laugh.

Frypan snorted noisily, his elbow leaning on the table, chin on palm. “No, we broke up. A week ago. Didn’t I tell you?”

“We live together and somehow I had absolutely no idea,” Thomas said, leaning over to place his hand over Frypan’s, watching for a response. When the other boy didn’t react, Thomas squeezed. “Now that I think about it, I should’ve known when I couldn’t hear your bed knocking against the wall–”

“Oh my God, Thomas, shut up!” Frypan pinched the inside of Thomas' hand, ignoring the laugh Thomas produced. “She’s great, Tom-boy. Beautiful, fierce. Everything I’ve ever wanted in somebody.”

“You and Zart just broke up though,” Thomas reminded him, gently, knowing Frypan’s track record with moving on _too_ fast, to only pull back weeks later and freak out.

Frypan ran his hand over his head, shrugging nonchalantly as the waiter placed their appetizer on the table with two plates and napkins. They thanked him, Thomas smiling sweetly at him. “Terrible,” Frypan said with a shake of his head as the boy left. “It was never serious with him, you know that. I’ve known her for a while, but she doesn’t live here. I think I’m gonna take it slow with her.”

“Good that,” Thomas told him, eyes shining at Frypan. As long as he was going to look out for himself, Thomas didn’t mind what he did. “You know I support you in everything you do, man. Just lookin’ out for you like you do me and Minho. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

"I know, _slinthead_ ," Frypan said, with what appeared to be pure happiness mixed with a smirk on his face, as he placed his palm over Thomas' hand and squeezed.

Thomas sat up straight and it jostled the necklace he wore around his neck, tightening his hand around Frypan's with a grin.

❀

“Hey, shuckface. You need to _relax_. Take a chill pill. Breathe. Smoke weed. Do some yoga or somethin’. I don’t care, anything! You’re messing with my vibe.” The abrasiveness in Minho’s voice brought Thomas’ pacing on the hardwood floor to a stop. Thomas finally lifted his eyes from where he was burning a hole in the wall to Minho, arms crossed tightly over his broad chest.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Thomas replied back, sneering, then retracted the nasty look on his face. He sighed, lips drawing tight at Minho’s laugh. “It’s not funny, man!”

The slam of textbooks shutting made Thomas jump in shock. Before he could say a word, Minho jumped up from his lounged-position on the chair to stride over to Thomas, grab his shoulders, and shake him. “You’re freaking out over _nothing_. People get bad grades. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Maybe not to you.” That earned Thomas a slap on the head. ‘Ow, Minho!”

“Stop being a stupid shank, then,” was Minho’s reply, before the Asian boy sighed, tilting his head whilst staring at Thomas. ‘You’re not going to quit sulking about this, are you?”

“Nope.” No point in Thomas’ lying to his friend, really. He knew he was going to pout, sulk, throw a tantrum, you name it. Alright, yeah, he was being a little overdramatic. The failing grade he earned wouldn’t make him fail the course, but, he was allowed to whine about it, wasn’t he?

Another sigh from Minho. “Dude, why don’t you hang out with Fry and me tonight? Get a load off of the stress you’re feeling.”

Thomas suppressed a laugh, arms finally falling to his sides. “All you guys do is play Fortnite in different rooms! Not exactly my idea of fun.”

“You’re one of the best shooters we know and you won’t even _try_ the fucking game,” Minho whispered under his breath, causing a snort to break free of Thomas’ lips. A little louder this time, Minho tried again, “It actually helps release stress!”

This had Thomas laughing, clutching his sides momentarily, then wiped a fake tear from his eye. “You’re so cute sometimes, Min. The last time I watched you guys play Fortnite, you threw the controller through Fry’s window and had to pay him $100!”

As Thomas exited the study lounge to make his way to his next class, he’s still sniggering as Minho yells, “Oh for fucks sake! That was one time!”

❀

Somehow, and Thomas had no idea how, but Minho was able to convince him to go to their stupid game night. He wasn’t going to play, no matter how much Minho begged and pleaded. Fortnite was a dumb, childish game that Thomas had no want to get into. He was fine with his Overwatch and Black Ops 4, thanks very much.

He promised Minho that he’d watch, so there he was, sat comfortably next to Minho but not far enough so he couldn’t see the screen. He had to admit that watching the game seemed more fun than playing it himself, but he attributed that to Minho’s reactions whenever he lost. The other boy couldn’t contain his rage, and it had Thomas grasping for air at times.

“I swear, if I keep getting one pumped, I’m going to sacrifice my unborn child to Satan,” Minho grumbled underneath his breath.

“Min— _ho_ ,” Thomas gasped, eyes wide but lips curved into a huge smile. He smacked at his knee, small chuckles leaving his lips. “Oh my god, man. You’re brutal!”

Minho rolled his eyes, narrowing them at the screen. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. Fry wasn’t dead yet, so the two of them watched his character run across the screen to make it to the next circle so he wouldn’t take damage. “You better kill them, Fry!”

“Yeah, eat their asses,” Thomas said, a smirk forming on his lips. He heard non-committal noises from Fry through Minho’s headphones, finally bringing Minho out of the funk he was in with a laugh.

“Fry said to shut the fuck up or he was going to your poison your dinner tonight,” Minho relayed the message wholeheartedly, knocking his shoulder into Thomas’ with a grin.

A pout made its way onto Thomas’ face. Fry’s character lost 35 health from another playing shooting at him. “Oh come on, baby. You know you love me!”

All Thomas got in response was a loud groan as Fry’s character died to the other guy. The dude had nine kills and there was still 35 people left in the game. **TheGlue** was their username. Their character was of a girl with red hair, her skin greenish blue, with a black tank and pants. They started crouching rapidly and then default danced. Fry’s voice was heard through the headphones, but Thomas couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“No shuckin’ way,” Minho whispered, a loud laugh leaving his lips, his hands smacking the keyboard hard. “He’s  such a frickin’ dumbass, I swear to god, how did we fill in the same game?”

And, well. Thomas was  confused. Who was Minho talking about? Was it this TheGlue person? “He? Who is he?”

No response was garnered from Minho, who uses the second monitor he had to bring up Discord, which Thomas himself never really used much. He was in a server with Minho, Fry, and a few of their college buddies for when they queue up on Overwatch, but that was really it.

Thomas watched as Minho joined a room with two people in it, screaming into his mic as soon as he entered. “You fuckin’ idiot!”

There were murmurs on the other end, of which Thomas couldn’t understand. He tried leaning in closer to Minho’s headset, but the other pressed his hand to Thomas’ face and pushed him away. Thomas pouted and mouthed _dick_ to Minho, who snickered quietly and gave him the finger.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get on with your stream, you fucker. Hope you die to defaults.” Thomas hadn’t even realized he spaced out until he watched Minho disconnect from the room, focusing back on the Fortnite game, where TheGlue’s character was still on the screen, this time with 16 kills.

“You gon’ tell me who that was, now?” Thomas asked, nudging his knee into Minho’s, head tilted carefully to the side as he watched the other boy’s reaction.

“Hah, yeah. You remember my streamer friend? The one who I told you about a few months ago that goes to college but makes a good living off YouTube and Twitch?”

Thomas frowned, chewing on the side of his lip. “Erm, no?”

“Do you remember anything I tell you, shuckface?” Minho questioned with a sigh, shaking his head. “Well, whatever. That was him. We somehow queued up in the same lobby, and that boy is a shucking _legend_ when it comes to this game. I don’t know how he does it.”

“TheGlue is who you’re talking about, yeah? The blue girl character? I assumed they were a girl,”  Thomas replied with a small laugh, resigned over the fact that he truly did not understand what was going on. He hated being out of the loop of things.

TheGlue was on a rampage, apparently. Four people left with 18 kills. Thomas whistled. Alright, he could admit talent when he saw it.

“Guys use girl skins all the time, Tom-boy. Hell, Fry and I use girl skins with think are nice. It doesn’t work that way in this game,” Minho explained with a shrug, scoffing as TheGlue ended up winning the game, 20 kills in all, throwing up a sticker that was a blue tin can with the word _MEEET_ on it, then default dancing with his blue girl character.

Thomas was intrigued, to say the least. “How does one even play Fortnite?”

And well, he shouldn’t have asked, frankly. That was his first mistake. Minho was bouncing up and down in the seat at the idea of Thomas _finally_ playing the game with them, rapidly explaining all the controls and mechanics of the game.

Honestly, it wasn’t all that hard for Thomas to grasp. He and Minho switched seats, allowing Thomas full range and mobility of the keyboard and mouse. The heatset felt comfortable along his ears, and Minho had a _nice_ gaming setup thanks to his rich parents.

It’s different, though. It’s so different from playing on a controller that Thomas nearly dies to fall damage his first game, gets pickaxe’d to death his second, and danced on during his third. He nearly gives up, but when Minho allowed him to switch keyboard settings to work better with the size of his hands, he began playing slightly better.

And by slightly, it took him six games to land a single shot. “Maybe it’d be better if you played on controller?” Minho suggested to Thomas as they saw no real improvement, grabbing his playstation controller off the counter and quickly plugging it into the computer.

That was all Thomas needed to start killing. He was nowhere near as good as that TheGlue guy, but it was a start, and he was willing to learn just to prove Minho and Fry wrong.

That was his second mistake.

❀

Thomas sighed, ringing up the items in front of him with lack of enthusiasm. The  _Duane Reade_  he worked at was busy all the time, therefore his mind had to be at a constant state of peace so he didn’t mess up or accidentally overcharge a customer.

Sadly, he wasn’t the best with keeping a clear conscious. Even at work, which was always his strong suit.

So, he wasn’t exactly in the right place of mind to be kind when a customer smacked their hand on the counter and demanded help, waving a hand about in Thomas’ face. And, Thomas was the type of person not to get mad, to smile back and greet the customer, help them with whatever it was needed even with whatever stick was up their ass that day.

However, today was not that day.

“I have been asking you for the same thing for nearly ten seconds. For fucks sake, can’t I get any good help around here?” The man standing in front of him was wearing an expensive suit, like he had bought it at Calvin Klein or something, a sneer on his, in Thomas’ opinion, ugly face.

“Sir,” Thomas tried, as politely as he could manage, folding his hands on top of the counter neatly. “I apologise for spacing out. It’s been a busy day–”

The man scoffed, actually rolling his eyes at Thomas. Like he’s a nuisance, almost. “ _You’ve_  had a bad day? Don’t start with me, kid. I’ll just have my fuckin’ cigarettes and be on my way.”

“Not with that attitude.” Thomas was bold, knows he was. Could get fired from this, really, but this man’s attitude was terrible, for no reason. “I’m not going to serve you until you ask nicely and treat me with the respect I deserve.”

The man stared. Slammed his hand down on the counter and stood tall, trying to intimidate Thomas. Though, Thomas wasn’t intimidated because he stood above the man by four inches, at least. “Do you know who I am?”

The other cashier and the rest of the customers were watching on now. “Sir,” Thomas tried, _again_. “Nobody here at Duane Reade receives any type of special attention because of who you may or may not be. Now, that is not my policy. If you have a problem with it, you can take it up with my manager. If not, you can either treat me with respect or walk out of the store.” It was hard to be polite, at all, to somebody so rude. It was taking all of Thomas’ strength and willpower not to yell at the guy. Because, even though he was a generally nice person, tender and kind and would do whatever he could for anybody in need, he also, on his off days, had the shortest temper in all of mankind.

It was like they were having a stare down. Thomas didn’t back down. Waited it out with his arms crossed over his chest, like one of those cowboy standoffs from those shitty western movies. Not that Thomas would know, because he’s not watched any…

That was beside the point: Thomas’ weird interest in western movies. Absolutely didn’t matter right now. Not one bit.

“Alright, alright,” the man broke, like a dam losing its strength and concaving in on itself. “May I,” he paused, sighed, and gripped his styled hair. “May I please have a pack of Marlboro?”

Thomas nearly smirked, said, “yeah, here you go.” and rang him up.

❀

The trees leaves were starting to turn turn _turn_ orange, brown, red; Thomas was so incredibly excited for October to arrive. The air cooling enough to allow a gentle breeze, swinging leaves across the university quad had Thomas in awe. The spooks, in both movie and haunted house form prompted goosebumps along Thomas’ skin. The Halloween decorations that Thomas himself went to the dollar store to buy so he could douse the dorm in them were stuffed neatly in his backpack. The overall aura and feel of October quenched whatever it was Thomas had been chasing the last nine months.

Except for one thing. Minho made him promise that he wouldn’t go as a baseball player this year. Said it was too repetitive to be doing for a third year in a row, so now Thomas had no clue as to who or what he was going to dress up as.

The thought brought both jitters of excitement and fear. He would worry about it closer to Halloween.

The Quad was nearly empty for a Monday afternoon, sun shining, weather still warm enough for lounging about on the grass, so Thomas did. He threw his jacket on the floor, hoodie enough to keep him warm, settled on top of the garment and opened his laptop.

For about twenty minutes, his studying goes unbothered, before he received a message on Discord from Minho.

 **[Minhoe#0420]:** join this link, dipshit. _https://discord.gg/The-Maze_

Thomas rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face. Two can play that game.

 **[GrieverSlayer#1234]:** no not until you apologize for being an asswipe

 **[Minhoe]:** you’ll never take me alive

 **[Minhoe]:** just join the server tom boy

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** no fuck you

 **[Minhoe];** stop being such a thomass and joined the server

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** …. ugh fine. i hate u

 **[Minhoe]:** love you too, bitch

With a resigned sigh, Thomas clicked on the link Minho sent, frowning when his computer started dinging faster than he could blink. “What the fuck?”

The amount of people in the server was _ridiculous_. The messages were flashing quicker than Thomas could read them, and Thomas wonders why in the _hell_ Minho would make him join this server. Over ten thousand people plagued the online list, Thomas’ eyes twitching as he saw Minho’s name near the top of the list, underneath admin. “Who’s server—”

And then it clicked. TheGlue’s server. He should’ve seen that coming as soon as he saw the custom url Minho sent. For someone that was so into video game design and coding, he should’ve seen it.

Thomas’ computer dinged, a notification popping up on the side of his screen. He clicked on it, being brought back to **The Maze** Discord, focusing only on the chat’s that seemed important or stood out.

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** @grieverslayer#1234 YOU MADE IT TOM BOY. WELCOME TO THE GLADE.

 **[K-Builders][Gallard]:** who the fuck is tom boy and why are you screaming min _hoe_???

**[Bot][Newtbot]:** _[K-Runners][Minhoe] changed [K-Builders][Gallard] to [K-Builders][Gallyleo]._

**[K-Builders][Gallyleo]:** DICK

 **[Group B][ARIStotle]:** Mama newt’s gonna take your perms away for a week again min

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** Mama newt loves me and nobody can sway me otherwise

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** where the fuck am i

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Minho, I most definitely will revoke your admin powers again. Don’t testes.

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Bloody hell. Don’t test me.*

 **[K-Track-hoes][Brenda]:** newton your gay is showing

 **[Mama][Newt]:** You know I prefer bisexy, Bren. My bisexy is showing.

Thomas blinked, licking his dry lips.

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** i almost forgot!!!

**[Bot][Newtbot]:** _[K-Runners][Minhoe] updated @GrieverSlayer#1234 to [Uglie][GrieverSlayer]_

A plethora of new chats opened on the side, one of them lighting up with unread messages. It was called _The Homestead_. Fitting. Thomas clicked on it.

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** there, now you have a pretty role, greenie

 **[Uglie][GrieverSlayer]:** first of all how fucking dare you

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Min, you can’t just update random Gladers because you feel like it!

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** that’s my roommate, you shank

 **[Uglie][GrieverSlayer]:** not for long. I’m sending out apps for a new roommate. a nicer, prettier roommate. one who makes me feel loved

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** fuck u man, ur lucky i role’d you. otherwise, you’d still be stuck in the general chat room with the millions of gladers and unable to talk to my beautiful self

 **[Uglie][GrieverSlayer]:** eat my ass i dont need ur generosity

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Oooh, Min. Is this the Thomas you told us about that’s working on his own game app? The smart one?

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** oh yea minhoe the one where we asked u if he wsa hot and u said he was smokin but if we ever said anything u’d kill us

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** oops did i say tht outloud :)

 **[K-Builders][Gallyleo]:** minhoe has a crush on his roommate? scandalous

 **[Uglie][GrieverSlayer]:** ew, 1) gross. minho is like my brother. 2) yes i am the one working on that game. 3) i cant believe minho has said nice things about me behind my back

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]** : never again, bitch. u got ur one nice thing said about you for life. only terrible, terrible insults from now on

A small laugh broke free from Thomas’ lips, passerbyers glancing weirdly at him. He held back the urge to flip them off with an eye roll, squinting his eyes towards the sky. The clouds were rolling by, separated, at times blocking the sun to provide some shade. The sky itself was blue blue _blue_ and the sun sat high in the sky. It was a beautiful day in Thomas’ books.

Lifting both of his arms over his head, he extended them far, making a low groaning noise as he stretched. A nice day, indeed. Nice enough to go running.

Thomas turned back to his computer, not bothering to read through the missed messages.

 **[Uglie][GrieverSlayer]:** @Minhoe#0420 i’m going to go for a run and then pick up pizza afterwards. are you gonna be at the dorm tonight?

Minho was known for sleeping around under the guise that it was college and he needed to live a little. Thomas himself didn’t enjoy the idea of sleeping around as much as Minho, yet still did it at times to fill the void of a loveless life. And well, frankly, it felt great.

Though, Thomas sought more than just physical connection. He wanted that emotional connection with someone, the ability to _feel_ their love through their words and actions they did for him. Sex was just a bonus in relationships for Thomas. It wasn’t the entire package deal, like it was for others. Like it was for Minho.

That was probably why him and Minho didn’t work out. Thomas met Minho in high school, and the two of them became best friends instantly. They gravitated hard towards one another, like the north and south sides of magnets, gripping to the point where it was almost painful to separate them. And Thomas fell fell _fell_ in ways he shouldn’t have. The signs were obvious that for Minho, it was just sex.

It was Thomas’ fault, though. They spoke about it several times and Minho, quite literally, said it was just sex from the get-go. Thomas had to go and nearly ruin their friendship by telling Minho that it meant more than just hooking up.

Minho hadn’t felt he same way, at least, not to the extent that Thomas felt it. He couldn’t lie to Thomas and say he didn’t feel _anything_ for the other boy, but in all honesty, it was mostly physical. Sure, he loved Thomas in ways that he didn’t love others, but that was only because Thomas knew that Minho had trouble connecting with people. He never delved further into that with Minho, but maybe, just _maybe_ that was the reason he wouldn’t let himself fall for Thomas.

Maybe he was afraid to love others, to really love them.

It didn’t matter anymore, at least, not for Thomas. He got over Minho fairly quickly once they almost lost each other, neither of them realizing how much the other meant to them. Minho wouldn’t get out of bed and Thomas threw himself into his studies so much that he wasn’t sleeping, making himself sick.

It took Frypan locking the two of them in his room together for them to make up. Thomas cried a little bit, Minho kicked the bed several times, and the two hugged and made up.

That’s not to say that the two of them didn’t still  fuck around when drunk or high, but it didn’t mean anything, not anymore. It was just fun for them.

Thomas knew that he would always have a special place in his heart for Minho, slightly separate from anyone else he’d ever met and would ever meet. His significant other would have to get over it. Minho wasn’t going anywhere.

So maybe sometimes he and Minho flirted, hugged, touched a little longer than the others. It was just them. It didn’t have to mean anything, Thomas knew now. It was just who they were, as best friends. He understood that him and Fry didn’t exactly act the same way, but him and Fry hadn’t gone through the same things Minho and him have. Thomas’ touch-dependent friendship also wouldn’t always work on Fry, who Thomas and Minho knew gently despised the idea of being touched; had to take it in little doses. When Fry would let them, they would, and Thomas would always feel immense pride in Fry letting them be the ones to hold him by his elbow, or place a firm hand on Fry’s shoulder, or wrap him up in a hug when they knew he needed it. Fry would give them a look, and they’d be there.

Fry ended up coming a little later than Minho, somehow wedging his way into their duo. Thinking back, Thomas had always known something was missing, or rather, someone. But him and Minho met many people along the way in high school and none of them fit with their way of friendship. Clashes upon clashes, judgments, name calling; that one kid who just wanted to get in Minho and Thomas’ pants at the _same_ time, because everyone swore until they were blue in the face that the two were dating.

He just showed up, one day, in the cafeteria. Thomas could tell that he was new, didn’t know anyone, and felt bad for the kid. To transfer to a new school in the middle of senior year? Especially one as tiny as Thomas and Minho’s? To say Thomas sympathized with other boy was an understatement.

So, Thomas did what he sought best. He got up from his table, leaving a slightly stunned Minho behind, and walked over to the new kid. Asked him if he wanted to sit with his friends, and to his relief, the boy said yes. Introduced himself as Siggy, but his friends called him Frypan or Fry. That was the day Thomas realized he had found his two best friends for life.

They were this inseparable group of three boys that society wouldn’t understand, couldn’t understand their bonds. And to Thomas, that was okay. They didn’t need to understand what they all had together. As long as the three of them knew what each other meant, that was what mattered.

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** don’t worry ur pretty face, greenie. ain’t goin nowhere tonight. you, me, and fry are gonna watch inception for the 5959654th time

 **[Uglie][GrieverSlayer]:** alright shuckface, i’ll pick up the regular. see you later, fuckers!!

Thomas smiled, shutting his laptop and stuffing it in his bag. Yeah, he loved his friends, more than he’d admit, sometimes.


	2. concrete jungle where dreams are made of

Living in New York City was _expensive_.

Out of the Minho, Frypan, and himself, Thomas struggled the most in terms of paying bills. Minho had help from his parents so he didn’t have to work much, and Frypan was able to get a job that paid a bit better than Thomas’.

So, when he took a trip out to Long Island with Frypan and Minho, all the way out to the Hamptons on the train because apparently Minho knows some people that are exceptionally rich, he saved up as much of his paycheck to get a nice, er, _nicer_ outfit.  
  
They were only going for the day, sleeping at one of Minho’s mates’ houses for the night, so he wasn’t too worried about what he was wearing then, but the outfit for the party needed to be as hot as it needed to be ‘hip’.  
  
Basically, the epitome of what Thomas was and represented but _rich-ified_.

He, Minho, and Frypan are crushed together in a three-seater, Frypan's leg thrown over Thomas' thigh. “How long is this train ride? _Urgh_ ,” Thomas moaned, laying his head on Minho’s shoulder.

“It’s a bit of a hike to get there from the city, but we’ll get there,” was all Frypan said, then patted absentmindedly at Thomas' hair.

“Why’s it so far, though?” Thomas' hand came to muss at Minho’s hair but Minho’s hand smacked it away with a _don’t you fucking dare_ look at Thomas. When Frypan went to speak, Thomas cut him off. “Okay, I obviously know why it’s so far, I’m just being exaggerative _English Major Siggy_.” 

The train pulled to a stop at the station before theirs, before Westhampton, and the person seated across Frypan left so he sprawled out on the opposite seat, legs rested on the seat now unoccupied between Minho and Thomas. He’s dressed smartly for the party in a pair of skinny jeans with ratty boots and a dark t-shirt with a jacket, but it was easier for Frypan. He could impress people with his words and easy-going attitude, whereas Thomas needed his both his looks and charm to get him anywhere.

Minho on the other hand was in a blue button-down, black skinny jeans, and a pair of blue sneakers to match. His hair was gelled in its usual style, and he looked good in the _trying, but I’m really not_ way that he did so effortlessly. He looked tiny, curled up in the train seat as if there wasn’t any room to stretch.

And then there was Thomas. Thomas, who had to scrounge together enough money between bills to try and salvage a suitable outfit. His hair was gelled in that careless-casual way, the one where it didn’t look like it had product in it but he had actually spent twenty minutes on. He was wearing a pale periwinkle-colored button up that was tucked into his black skinny jeans, top three buttons left undone, with a brown belt. The shoes were a ratty, but still nice pair lent by Minho.

“One more stop. I wonder if you can do it.” Frypan was teasing, in a way that he did whenever he thought Thomas was being silly or stupid. This time, Thomas wasn’t sure which it is, or if it was both, so he shoved at Frypan's shoulder and gathered his belongings up.

Shoving up from the seat, he crawled over Minho and stuffed his phone and wallet back into his pocket, slinging his bag over his shoulder comfortably. “Get up young children, we’re almost off this dreaded thing.”

“You realize that we’ve to come back the same way, right?” Minho laughed, as he and Frypan did what Thomas said.

Thomas moaned aloud, his hand scrubbing over his face. “Don’t remind me of that right now please, I’d rather not think of it. Where’d you meet this friend though? You never told me.”

The train slowed to a halt so they could walk off, minding the gap like experts because of the subway. “My friend Gally. Met him in Newt’s discord and he’s back in the states for a bit, so he’s picking us up.”

“Newt?” Thomas questioned, eyebrows raised slightly, before it clicked. “ _Oh_ , that’s that TheGlue kid? His name’s Newt? What kind of name is that?”

Minho nodded and let out a snort. “Not a kid, Tom-boy, but, yes. That’s him. It’s not his real name, you shank. It’s just his alias.”

“Alias?” Tilting his head, Thomas scrunched his nose up as they walked down the stairs.

“Yeah, man. So people can’t find him and mob him. Dude has a lot of support and hasn’t done a face reveal yet so people use anything and everything to try to figure him out. Used an alias to cover it, which works, since it’s the name people actually call him by.” Minho slinked an arm over Frypan's shoulder and lead them in the direction of where he said he’d meet Gally and his, or whoever he was borrowings, car.

Thomas nearly stopped in his place when he saw it, because it’s a fucking _corvette_. Thomas wasn’t sure the year or any other details deemed important, as he wasn’t not a car expert by any means. Though he knew enough that it was super expensive, so he shakes off the shock quickly and allowed to Frypan to tug him towards the car, to a car that was worth more than everything Thomas every owned in his life.

“Hi, Gal. Sick car man, is it your mom’s car? Do you think she’d let me drive it?” Minho shrugged out of Frypan’s grip to lean in and hug Gally, patting him on the back. He got in the passenger seat and Thomas climbed in the back with Frypan, and took out his phone.

 **Thomas [sent 5:45pm]:** we do not fit in with this crowd fry

His thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, before he sent it, clicking his seatbelt in with one hand. There wasn’t any reason for him to be scared of Frypan’s response. They were best friends for crying out loud.

 **Fry [sent 5:46pm]:** shut up man and just go along with it. we get to act like rich bitches for a night

Thomas laughed to himself and clicked his phone shut, leaning up so he can press his hands down on Minho’s shoulders. “I’m excited for this party, Gally. Minho said you know them?” Before Gally answered, Thomas was quick to speak again. “Put your seatbelt on, Minho.”

“Yeah, grew up with them. She’s a mate of mine, haven’t seen her since I started school in London. I just graduated from uni, so I’m back to visit for a month or two,” Gally answered Thomas finally, as Minho reached for the radio like he owned the car and turned it on, volume low.

Sitting back in his seat, Thomas nodded, a smile breaking its way onto his face. “That’s cool, man.” Being conversational wasn’t always Thomas’ thing. He tried his best, but usually looked to Frypan or Minho to help him out. Neither were doing so, so he dropped the conversation.

It didn’t matter, Gally spoke up anyway, “It’s on the beach. I suppose you brought swim trunks?” Gally flicked a glance at Thomas.

“Yeah, Min told me. I’m excited. I haven’t been to the beach in a while.” Thomas nodded, hand tapping the bag sat next to him. The closest beach to where they lived in Manhattan has to be the one of the Bronx beaches, but that’s another story for another day.

“It’s also a masquerade party. Teresa can’t have a party without it being themed and with it being one of the last hot days of the year. It was a last minute type of thing, so she went out and bought masks for everyone. She has extras inside when we get there.”

Frypan nodded at Gally’s words. “Seems cool. Might help with your social anxiety, Tom-boy.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, punching Frypan in the arm, “Hardy har har, fucker.”

“Their house is massive, so, beware,” was all Gally said as he crossed over the bridge that separated the main island and the smaller piece underneath. It’s not really a bridge, but more of a connection and they were over it in two seconds.

When they did pull up to the house, Thomas stared at it in complete awe. It wasn’t old-fashioned in the slightest. Modern with a beige sleek wood finish as the exterior. The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange-purplish glow over the fenced-in house. The plants and garden were cut to perfection, in a way that Thomas wouldn’t expect any less from a house worth millions.

“Holy shit,” both he and Frypan said, at the exact same time, both a little less accustomed to this life than Minho was. They looked at one another and laughed.

“I know. Trust me, _I know_.” Gally pulled into the driveway as carefully as he could, an assortment of cars lining the street, shutting the car off. “I’ve lived here my entire life and Teresa’s house awes the shit out of me every time.”

They all got out of the car and Thomas couldn’t believe he was at a house that was worth more this much. He was almost afraid to even walk on the pavement, scared his clumsy ass would break it somehow and then he’d owe them thousands of dollars. He could always act like it wasn’t him, if it did happen, but fuck. Did they have cameras? Would they be able to find him? Why’d he wear the Saint Laurent boots Minho passed down to him that are ratty and old? Knowing him, he’d trip into the shrubs and the whole house would fall down.

“There are so many people here,” Frypan said, still in awe. “Anyone famous? Or is it all a bunch of nobodies like us.” 

“Mixed assortments. I’d say there are more nobodies, though.” Gally linked his hand with his boyfriend, Ben, who had come out when the car pulled up, leading the three of them behind the couple into the house and they all followed suit when Gally toed off his shoes, opening up a closet and stacking them in the corner, along with their bags.

Thomas was affronted. Almost. “You do things here as if you live here yourself.”

“I’ve been friends with Teresa long enough for me to feel comfortable at her house.” Gally shut the closet, with a shrug.

“Gally, babes! You’re here!” All of them spun around in place to see a girl in a light-wash pair of denim shorts that stop right past her ass, a deep-red tied bikini top, hair neatly combed off to one side. She had the brightest pair of blue eyes Thomas had ever seen, stark black hair, and skin nearly white. She was _beautiful_.

“She’s cute,” Minho whispered to both Thomas and Gally, but he wasn’t quiet enough because the girl opposite them _giggled_ in earnest.

“Shush it, Minho.” Gally nudged him. “Hey, Teresa. This is Minho and Frypan who you’ve heard a lot about and his mate Thomas, who you’ve heard nothing about.”

There was empty laughter from Thomas, although a bit of a fond smile on his face. “Wow, thanks for the grand introduction Gally. Couldn’t have done it better myself.” He stepped up, head tilted in Teresa’s direction as he stuck out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Thomas, it’s nice to meet you, Teresa.”

She smiled back at him, bright and beautiful, shaking his hand back gently. “Gentleman, you are! Nice to meet you, Tom.” She left him then, introducing herself to Frypan quickly and Thomas watched as she tucked a hair behind her ear before introducing herself to Minho, and _oh_.

Thomas and Frypan shared a knowing look, glancing over at the two who seemed to be hitting it off already.

After introductions were done, the now six of them moved through the house, Frypan and Thomas – behind Teresa, Minho, Gally and Ben – nudged one another in awe at the incredibly overpriced materialistic items they found, Thomas having to cover Frypan's mouth when they walked passed a framed picture of a cactus, of all things. Gally and Ben sent them back amused grins at the slight cackle heard from Frypan, whereas Teresa paid them no mind.

“You brats are the worst,” Minho whispered over his shoulder in fake anger, a fond smile on his face nonetheless. Both Thomas and Frypan grinned at that.

“It’s a really nice place, Teresa,” Frypan said, loudly, a smirk on his face. “I really love all the, uh, artsy shit going on here.”

Thomas elbowed Frypan in the side as he snickered, stepping in front of him and smiling politely at Teresa. An apology, almost. “He’s an uneducated dickhead. Don’t let whatever he says or does get to you.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an English major!” Frypan shouted from the other side of Thomas.

There was a bit of a pause from Teresa though, like she was thinking, then her eyes crinkle up and his widened into a bright smile. “You have nothing to worry about there. I’m used to Gally's rambunctious tendencies, so anything Frypan throws my way, I can handle.”

“Look at it this way, T,” started Gally, his arm slung around Teresa’s shoulder with a sly expression and _oh no_. ‘I have Frypan to dish it out with and you have Minho to cry in the corner with.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Teresa says, deadpanned, amazing both Thomas and Frypan, a jaw-drop from Thomas and a double take from Frypan. Then, Teresa went back to her smiley-self.

 _Well then_ , Thomas thought. Tonight was going to be interesting.

 

Thomas was _drunk_.

In his defense, being left alone by Gally, Frypan, and newly-introduced Teresa with a miscellany of booze in the kitchen was a terrible idea. He wasn’t the best at parties, didn’t socialize unless he was trying to pull, or he knew them. So, it wasn’t his fault he was on his fourth beer, sat on top of the counter like he was guarding the alcohol. He got a few funny looks, but he sent a, what he hoped was, a charming smile their way.

Everything felt hazy, so the granite counter in Teresa’s kitchen was good support for Thomas’ clumsy-enough-without-alcohol ass.

He tried fumbling his phone out of his pocket to text Frypan or Minho, but it took him way too long to remember which pocket he put his phone in. “Fuck,” he grumbled to himself, nearly dropping the phone and face planting when he pulled it out of his _left_ back pocket.

 **Thomas [sent 9:45pm]:** im rly drnk in teh kitchen pls sav

 **Fry [sent 9:47pm]:** we told you not to get drunk idiot

 **Minho [sent 9:47pm]:** im not rescuing you man, teresa and i are hitting it off. sorry, fry

 **Fry [sent 9:48pm]:** fuck u min

 **Fry [sent 9:48pm]:** be there in a min, tom-boy. don’t die.

It took seeing Frypan walk into the kitchen with a beer in his hand for Thomas to fall off the counter, his own drink messily spilling over the rim and he pressed himself tightly against Frypan’s side. Anyone watching them would think they were a couple, but Frypan was just Thomas’ overly-caring best friend. “Fry, baby. You’re hereeee!” He dragged out the last of his words, face pressed into Frypan’s shoulder.

“You overly-affectionate drunk, ‘geroff me, oh my God,” Frypan said, gently pushing Thomas off of him so he was standing straight. “Alright, you’re coming with me, c’mon.”

A smirk made its way on Thomas’ drunk face. “What, you’re going to take me to bed, Fry? We’re at a _strangers_ house.” Passerbyers snickered at Thomas’ words, and Frypan nearly shoved him to the ground in rebuttal. “I’m kidding, man.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you actually are,” Frypan murmured aloud, just barely enough for Thomas to hear him, as the two wandered through Teresa’s massive house. “You interrupted my game of beer pong, but thankfully they said they’d wait for me when I told them what was happening.”

Thomas frowned at that, running a hand over his hair, and sighed. “Sorry ye’ have to babysit me.”

At Thomas’ slightly sad words, Frypan wrapped an arm around his shoulder both to support him and comfort him. “You just can’t hold your liquor. Not your fault. We shouldn’t have left you alone when we know how you get. No worries. Just stay close, yeah?” And with that, he gently pushed Thomas in the direction of a couch in the same room as where they were playing beer pong.

So, Thomas listened. He dropped down on the couch, half-on half-off, body slightly askew on the cushions.

He had no idea how long he was sat there, watching the party go on as if he didn’t exist, bodies upon bodies packed into the huge house. Beer cans lined up on tables, in hands, on lips. Sweat pouring off everyone as the last remnants of summer still lingered in the air, even with the breeze of the beach.

The couch suddenly felt heavier, and somehow without knocking himself of it, he sat up, noticing a boy to his left. There’s a beer in the boy’s hand, albeit it looked barely touched, and he’s leaned against the couch as though the party bored him. The mask the boy had on the face covered most of it, at least the side that Thomas could see.

Thomas’ eyes drifted downward to the boy’s outfit, since he couldn't really see his face. He was wearing what looked to be a metallic brown button up shirt rolled to his elbows, top button left undone, a pair of dark skinny jeans and a pair of nice boots. His hair was dark brown, a bit longer than average length for men, flipped part stopping just at the top of his ears, and when he turned to look at Thomas with a curious look on his mostly-covered face, Thomas could see that he had these bright, blue eyes, even in his drunken haze.

The boy was beautiful, and Thomas was sure he was _smitten._

“Erm, hi?” The boy asked him, head tilted to the side. “Are you alright?”

“I—” Thomas started, blinking a few times, knowing he had to look absolutely ridiculous. And then, word vomit. “Man, your shirt looks so soft. I’d rub my face on it.”

Boy opposite him blinked, spluttering out a laugh as he squared his shoulders, then licked his lips. “Excuse me?”

Thomas was confused for a second, eyebrows furrowing together. “What? Did I say something wrong?” Then he started laughing, clutching his stomach. “Oh, shit. _Fuck_. Dude, I’m so sorry. I’m so drunk right now, wow.”

Silk-shirt boy seemed to relax at that, sinking back into the couch. “You made it seem like you were going to ravage me or something. Was about to dip.”

“I’m so sorry,” Thomas said, again, meaning it this time, as his laughs died down. “I can’t hold my alcohol well and my friends know that. And they left me to party when I’m socially anxious around new people. Wow, word vomit is a bitch today, huh?”

The brunet turned his body towards him slightly, a smirk on his face. “Nah, s’alright. No worries, yeah? M’not gonna judge you for wanting to have fun.”

“You’re a saint,” Thomas mumbled, taking a quick sip of his beer for confidence. “Minho’s trying to get laid and Fr—”

“Hold up a second,” brown-haired beauty interrupted, arm completely leaning on the couch so he was fully facing Thomas. “You know Minho?”

“Yeah.” For another time within the last two minutes, Thomas was confused. “Wait, _you_ know Minho? _My_ Minho?”

“Your Minho?” Brunet-God asked, a frown on his face. “But you just said he was trying to get laid, if he’s your boyfriend shouldn’t you be—”

A loud laugh, almost a squeak, left Thomas’ lips as he shook his head vigorously. “Oh no, no, _no_ , I didn’t mean it like that. Noooo, Minho is my best friend. My mate. I just meant like, you know the same Minho as me, yeah? Am I making sense? Shit, I’m never drinking again,” Thomas said the last part mostly to himself.

“Ah, okay, makes sense. No, you’re good. I totally understand what you’re saying now.” The other boy nodded his head at Thomas, a smile gracing his lips. “You know, for a drunk man, you’re quite charming. It’s kind of a shame that you won’t remember anything in the morning.”

Thomas felt his entire face heat up at the other man’s comments. “Thanks. Most people think my word vomit is too much and then they pat me on the face and leave.” More word vomit.

“Nah, you’re just saying what you mean. Nothing wrong with that. People who get annoyed by it aren’t people you want in your life to begin with.” Hearing those words come from a man he had never met before meant way more to Thomas than it should’ve.

And before Thomas knew it, him and the other boy had been talking for over an hour and a half. Thomas stayed consistently drunk through the entirety of it, getting another beer whenever he felt the buzz start to wear off. The other boy hadn’t gotten a new beer all night, just watched amusedly as Thomas stumbled three times back to the kitchen and made him promise that he wouldn’t let anyone sit in his seat.

No one was ever sat in his seat when he came back.

At some point, they both took out their phones and started playing Fortnite Mobile, Thomas adding the other boy’s account name **ARIStotle** which had a Greek letter in it and that was the reason he was able to get it.

They ended up getting two wins, Thomas’ first whilst playing the game, and Thomas ended up dying both times with the other boy carrying him.

“You’re good at the game,” Thomas mused as he pocketed his phone a while later, grinning over at the boy.

The boy shrugged with a small smile. “Only sometimes,” he said, chewing on his lip.

Time continued to go by, both of them aimlessly talking about things that didn’t matter and Thomas knew he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

“—so then Minho and I were dancing on a rooftop in the middle of Times Square, no idea how we had gotten there. My pants were gone, one of Minho’s shoes were missing, and my wallet was stolen. But, yeah. That was the one time I tried cocaine accidentally and I’m never touching a single drug again.”

The other boy gaped at him, a loud laugh leaving his lips. “Holy shit, dude! How the fuck did you even—”

Thomas joined in on the laughter, grabbing at his own knee. “I have no idea, oh my God. To this day, my mom asks me what happened on my 19th birthday last year and I couldn’t tell her even if I wanted to!”

Brunet quieted down, albeit barely chuckling, and said, “Ah, 19? You’re quite a bit too young to be drinking there, aren't ya’?” He nodded over at the beer in Thomas’ hands.

“I’m 20, actually. Birthday passed a few months ago, I’ll be 21 next year, s’the same thing,” Thomas rebutted, a pout on his face, not wanting the boy in front of him to suddenly think he was uncool for not being of legal age. Especially not one that Thomas thought was so _pretty_ , and he hadn’t even seen his face!

“Relax, man. I’m just toying with you. I’m 21 myself, so as a 21-year-old I agree with your logic.” He was smiling so bright at Thomas and nodding so wholeheartedly that Thomas felt his heart clench. “Don’t worry that head of yours.”

“Good that,” Thomas replied, leaning his hand over to squeeze at the boy’s shoulder. As he was doing so, he heard a familiar voice come up behind him and shake him by the shoulders.

“Tom-boy! There you are! I’ve been looking for you _everywhere_.” It was Minho with Frypan towed behind him, both of them looking considerably less drunk than Thomas. “Where the fuck did you go? I thought Fry said he was keeping an eye on you?”

“I was! But then I got done with my beer pong game, came back here to get him, and he was gone!” Frypan’s arms went up in the air in slight exasperation.

Thomas tilted his head to the side. Third time being confused tonight. “What do you mean? I was here the entire time, Fry! This is where you left me!”

The boy Thomas had been talking to this entire time, to which Thomas just realized he did _not_ know the name of, spoke up, “It’s true. He was sat here with me talking the past two hours. The only time he got up was to pee and get more alcohol.”

Minho spun around to stare at Frypan, who had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “You didn’t think to come back here and _check_ to see if he had maybe done that?”

“Listen, man. I’ve been drinking and my head isn’t clear. Let me _live_ ,” Frypan moaned, crossing his arms slightly petulantly over his chest.

The two of them bickered for a hot minute, and Thomas realized his hand had a wandering mind of its own, was halfway over the couch to where the brunet boy sat and was toying with the soft material of his shirt. He nearly pulled his hand away when he realized what he was doing, clearly embarrassed, but the look on the other boy’s face wasn’t of disgust or annoyance. It was amused, so Thomas allowed himself that and kept on touching the shirt.

“You’re something else,” the boy said, fighting back a grin as he threw his arm over the side of the couch, his hand just brushing the back of Thomas’ neck. “You really are,” he whispered, fingernail pressing into the skin.

Then, abruptly, he was being dragged up by the shirt, ripped away from the other boy, and Thomas felt his heart clench. “We’re leaving, Tom-boy,” Minho said, casually, as if he hadn’t just ripped Thomas’ heart out.

“Wait,” Thomas tried, as he was being pulled away. “Wait, I didn’t catch your name?” His heart tugged harder as he planted his feet firmly in the ground, only to be grabbed by both Frypan and Minho.

The other boy stood up as Thomas was dragged away, slender body and all, his hip cocked to the left slightly. “I didn’t throw it,” he yelled simply, a smirk on his face, and he waved with his free hand at Thomas.

And for another time that night, Thomas wished he wasn’t so fucking drunk.


	3. head in the clouds but my gravity's centered

Thomas’ computer dinged from where it was sat on his desk, him pulling on a fresh shirt and walking over to it, dropping in his swivel chair.

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** what’s up fuckers!!

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** why do you have my phone???

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** BECAUSE FUCK YOU THAT’S WHY

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** wait no i actually came here to see if any of you wanted to squad up in fortnite?

Thomas laughed, running a hand over his head. He hadn’t played much of Fortnite since before the party, but knew that if he used a controller, he would be decent at the game. And although it’s still a _shit_ game, it seemed like it was a fun one to play with friends.

 **[Uglie][GrieverSlayer]:** i’ll play with you

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** why do you have to lie and break my heart like that thomass!!

**[Bot][Newtbot]:** _[K-Runners][Minhoe] changed [Uglie][GrieverSlayer] to [Uglie][ThomasTheTrain]_

**[K-Builders][Gallyleo]:** don’t listen to him thomas he deserves it

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** Gayly I will come to london and punch you in the dick

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** wow that was a typo but i mean… it’s not wrong

 **[Uglie][ThomasTheTrain]:** i’m being serious man but if you don’t wanna play with me i’ll go study or some boring shit

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** THOMAS PLEASE I WAS KIDDOING I LOVE U BBY

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Minho, calm your buggin’ ass down, mate.

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** i’m sorry mommy newt

**[Bot][Newtbot]:** _[Mama][Newt] removed [K-Runners] role from @Minhoe#0420._

**[Mama][Newt]:** You were saying?

 **[Minhoe]:** N O PLEASE NEWT IM SORRY I’LL STOP DON’T DO THIS

 **[Minhoe]:** I AM A LOYAL ADMIN DO NOT DO THIS TO ME

 **[Uglie][ThomasTheTrain]:** mr. newt can you please change my name to something other than this i am crying in the club

 **[Minhoe]:** NEWT DON’T YOU DARE

 **[Mama][Newt]:** To piss Minho off? I got you, Thomas.

 **[Minhoe]:** NEWT

**[Bot][Newtbot]:** _[Mama][Newt] changed [Uglie][ThomasTheTrain] to [Greenie][Thomas]._

**[Mama][Newt]:** There ya go, Thomas!

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** greenie?

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** it’s bc ur new!! we call newbies greenies around here and ur the newest addition to our little non-mazers group

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** it should’ve been the role you gotten automatically and chuck should be moved to a slopper but min doesn’t follow guidelines

 **[Minhoe]:** eat my butt sun

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** u wish I wasn’t gay

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** ah okay that’s really cool

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** also minho i just remember i actually have class so rainchekc on the fortnite date

 **[K-Builders][Gallyleo]:** DATE?

 **[Minhoe]:** he didn’t mean it like that shank

 **[Minhoe]:** newt GIMME MY ROLE BACK

The last thing Thomas saw before he shut his computer to put it in his backpack was Newt’s response.

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Over my dead body, Min.

Thomas laughed all the way out of his dorm room.

❀

 “Professor Janson is such an _asshole_ ,” Minho grumbled as he and Thomas made their way out of _Introductory to Business Management._ “Why are you even talking that class, man? You’re a video game design major!”

“For some reason it’s in the core for what I need to graduate.” Thomas shrugged at Minho, watching as the leaves outside shifted about the concrete slabs they were walking on. Autumn had officially come, and the temperature change was drastic from last week when they were at the beach. Thick sweaters and warm socks, jackets, beanies, leaves falling off trees. This was Thomas’ favorite time of year.

“That’s stupid,” Minho supplied, as the two of them walked across the grass of the quad to where Frypan was sitting, furiously tapping away on his phone. “Are you good, man?”

Frypan shook his head, looking up at the two of them with wide eyes and a frown. “No! Brenda has been calling me cute all day and I don’t know what to do!”

“Brenda?” Thomas questioned, dropping onto the ground next to Frypan, Minho following suit.

“The girl he’s crushing on, dumbass. C’mon, keep up.” Minho smacked him on the arm as he spoke, rolling his eyes. “Alright, so? What’s the matter with that?”

“I can’t tell if she’s fucking with me or not,” Frypan whispered, chewing on his lower lip, leg stretched out over Thomas’. Thomas reached out to press a hand on his knee in a soothing manner.

“Why don’t you just ask her, then? It might do some good to know whether or not she means it or not, so you don’t have to freak out like.” And to Thomas, that sounded like a great idea.

To Minho and Frypan? Not so much. The two of them started laughing, and Thomas frowned at his friends. “I’m just trying to help!”

“You either go for it full force Tom-boy, or you don’t go for it at all. Simple as that,” Minho offered after he quieted down, his eyes still crinkled slightly, hair blowing from the wind. “If you think she’s worth it Fry, then risk the friendship and ask her out. If you’re too scared of losing her and don’t want to, it’s best to get over her.”

“You’re right.” Frypan nodded, lifting his phone back up from where his hand had dropped to his lap and began typing away. “I’m going to tell her. Worst thing that  can happen is she says she doesn’t feel the same, right?”

With a small nod of his head, Minho smiled. “Exactly, man. If she’s worth it, go for it.”

“Good that,” Frypan responded, before hopping up off the ground and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Gotta go to class, fellas. I’ll let you know how it goes.” And with that, he was gone, nearly face planting the floor as he turned the corner out of sight.

“He rivals your clumsiness sometimes,” Minho said to Thomas, who punched him in the arm, throwing his leg over Minho’s lap.

The two of them study in silence for about half an hour, Thomas for his coding class and Minho for organic chemistry. Thomas remembered the moment Minho signed up for the class, hearing all about how he would barely pass it because of how hard it is. Minho was smart, one of the smartest people Thomas had the pleasure of knowing, and he was afraid of failing a class? Everyone else were goners.

At some point, Thomas got distracted and began looking up at the clouds, doodling on his paper. He had always been a decent drawer, better at conceptual drawings rather than realistic ones. He had a knack for being able to get the important parts right, like shapes and placements, but when it came to shading and coloring, his mind would draw blank.

His hand moved freely about the paper which was meant to be copying down ways to transmit information into a computer, when Minho grabbed his arm and tilted his head at him. “Study, _slinthead_ ; as beautiful as those are, this is not the time for slacking off.”

Thomas pouted, trying to shake his arm out of Minho’s grip to no avail. “But my brain doesn’t want to work, Min! It wants to conceptualize the clouds.”

“You’re such a dork,” Minho snorted, letting go of his hand and returning back to his own papers. “Fine, but if you fail, don’t come crying to me like you did last time.”

“That was for philosophy of the arts, not coding!” Though, Minho’s words made Thomas shut up, eyes downcast back towards his notes rather than the drawn-on paper. His hand began folding bits of the paper while he read, free hand drumming a rhythm into his thigh. He chewed on his lower lip, sighing to himself, when his phone buzzed in his lap.

**_[DISCORD][The Maze]_ ** _[The Homestead][Newt]: Eat my ass, you minx!_

Thomas snorted, harder than he should’ve, and opened up the Discord.

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** newt what the fuck i’m trying to study and your message popped up on my phone

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Sorry, not sorry. Brenda was being a twat.

 **[K-Track-hoes][Brenda]:** that’s no way to talk to the love of your life

 **[Mama][Newt]:** I’d rather catch a disease in a torn world and slowly disintegrate.

 **[K-Cooks][Siggy]:** wow you’re brutal

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** fry what the fuck i didn’t know you were in here???

 **[K-Cooks][Siggy]:** been in here longer than you tom boy

 **[Mama][Newt]:** As lovely as this reunion is, I’m poppin’ on here to ask if any of you want to play squads with me on stream, tonight? I don’t really feel like doing squad fills and I’m not in the mood for solos.

 **[K-Cooks][Siggy]:** i’m down, man.

 **[Slopper][Brat Minhoe]:** i’ll play if you give me my fucking role back

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Being salty isn’t going to get you anywhere, darling.

 **[Slopper][Brat Minhoe]:** mama newt pls

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Alright, we can make a bet tonight and if you win it, you can have your role back.

 **[Slopper][Brat Minhoe]:** and if I win????

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Think of somethin’, mate.

 **[Slopper][Brat Minhoe]:** aiiiiight bet, bet.

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Anyone else? I’ll love you forever.

 **[Group B][ARIStotle]:** can’t tonight, man. rachel and i are goin out with the fam

And, wait. Is that who Thomas thought it was? The dude from Teresa’s party? It would make sense. They had the same name as the Fortnite name Thomas played with. He only remembered because the name Aris wasn’t a common name and Aristotle wasn’t a sociologist one could forget.

Also, who is Rachel? Did he have a girlfriend? Thomas felt his heart clench. It didn’t matter, though. Thomas was intoxicated and he knew that when he was he let himself fall hard and fast for people without getting to know them. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, running a hand over his hair.

He really wanted to know if it was him, though. Regardless of everything, he wanted to become friends with the dude. From what he could remember of that night, they had a really nice conversation and Thomas didn’t have those often with people. His social anxiety got in the way of it sometimes and would make him feel as though the world was ending if he had to talk to people. It was only sometimes, too. Other times, he could talk a mile a minute about anything and everything. Consistency wasn’t a thing with anxiety, sadly.

So, without thinking of it, he exited the Discord itself and went to messages, opening up one with **ARIStotle**.

 **[GrieverSlayer#1234]:** hey man

 **[ARIStotle#0384]:** uh hi?

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** i don’t know if you remember me from teresa’s party, but we played fortnite together and had a pretty good conversation about shit. 

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** you got me my first two wins if that helps ring a bell at all

 **[ARIStotle]:** dude what are you talking about? teresa’s party? I don’t know a teresa

Thomas frowned, eyebrows shifting together. What was he talking about? Did he not want to be friends with Thomas? Did Thomas say something to make him feel uncomfortable at the party?

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** you weren’t that dunk, were you? teresa’s party last week. In the hamptons. we played fortnite together. you were wearing a masquerade mask that covered most of your face…

 **[ARIStotle]:** mate i live in pennsylvania??? I have never been to new york, let alone the hamptons. I don’t even know anybody in the hamptons

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** is your fortnite username the same as your discord name?

 **[ARIStotle]:** well yeah, but, a lot of people could have the same username with greek letters, my dude. It wasn’t me. maybe it was just someone with the same username as me? Sorry bro

Thomas was so confused. There was no way this was happening. The coincidence of it all was too high. The boy said he had known Minho, yet this man was saying that he hadn’t even gone to the party? Nothing is adding up.

 **[GrieverSlayer]:** shit sorry for bothering you then man i hope u have a good day

He didn’t bother listening to this Aris’ response, because his heart was too hurt. If it was really the dude he spoke to that night and he didn’t want to talk to him, that sucked, and it hurt. If it wasn’t him, then who was it?

Instead of spending the rest of the day sulking alone in his room, watching some sort of rom-com, he went back into **The Maze** and wrote to the private group room.

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** hey newt if you’re still looking for a forth, i’ll play. I’m not the best, but it seems fun.

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Still am, Thomas. You available in about two hours?

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** yeah, i’ll drag Minho back to the dorm now to eat and get ready

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Good that.

So, yeah. He wasn’t going to worry about it. Not tonight, at least.

 

Within the next two hours, him and Minho were able to order four pies of pizza, have Frypan come back from class and down all of them with them, and get back to their rooms to setup their computers for the game.

To say Thomas was nervous was an understatement. The idea of playing with Newt, who he barely knew but seemed liked a decent enough person, was essentially a God at the game, and he had never spoken to him before, scared the crap out of him. The only thing that helped him was Frypan and Minho being there to help create conversation and make Thomas be at ease.

It took Thomas a few minutes to load into the game, Discord open on his left monitor and Fortnite open on the bigger one. He and Minho were in the same room but on different mics, so they both made a deal of no yelling, especially since Newt was going to be streaming.

He hoped Minho followed through on that deal.

They lived in a four-person suit, a small kitchen connected to a living room on one side, two rooms to share, and a bathroom. It wasn’t much, but it was more than some of the dorms got, and Thomas was grateful. There was washers and dryers on the floor itself and extra bathrooms incase people needed to shower or pee.

Frypan was probably the most sociable out of three, in the sense that he would be okay with sharing with a stranger. He searched and searched until he found a boy named Winston, who Minho and Thomas weren’t close to, but Frypan liked the dude, and he was clean, so that was more than enough for them.

The boy Winston brought over friends every now and again, and they were nice enough. That was how Frypan met Zart, and the two hit it off immediately. Zart didn’t want a relationship, though, yet Frypan still went along with it, hoping to change his mind.

It didn’t happen, though.

“Hey, shank. Join the streaming room,” Minho said, from the other side of the room, laughing at something someone had to have said in his headset.

“Yeah, yeah,” Thomas mumbled, following through with what Minho said to do, seeing Newt, Frypan, and Minho already in there. He toggled his mic to mute as soon as he entered the room, feeling a pillow hit his back as soon as he did it. He flipped Minho off over his back, chewing nervously on his lower lip.

“You lot all set to play, then?” Newt asked, causing Thomas’ eyes to widen. Wait, he’s—

Thomas turned to Minho, grabbing the pillow the other boy threw at him to fling it back, it hitting Minho in the head as Thomas nearly yelled, “Newt’s British?!”

He watched as Minho pursed his lips together to stifle a laugh, before realizing what he did. He smacked his palm to the center of his face as Newt replied instead of Minho, “Yeah, mate. What’s’it to ya?”

Toggle unmute. “No, no, I don’t think it’s a _bad_ thing, I just—” Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the color swarm his cheeks. He already blew it with someone he thought was decent.

Then came Newt’s laugh. “Relax, man. I’m just fuckin’ with ya. Minho,” he started, voice teasing. “Why didn’t you tell me Thomas was an American?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Thomas murmured, his heart slowing down, thankful Newt was able to take it so lightly.

“You have to take me on a date first,” Newt said with a laugh. A gentle, yet bright one.

Thomas’ eyes widened at his words, but the British boy continued, “Alright, everyone get on the game! Stream starts in two!”

So, they did. Thomas joined the invite that Minho had sent him, and it feels weird, after seeing Newt’s character on the game through Minho’s screen last time, to be playing with him. He grips his controller tighter, licking his dry lips.

He hoped he played well today.

Minho and Frypan were taking turns to do dances on the screen as Newt presumably readied his stream. “Think we might actually hit one mill on Twitch this month, guys,” Newt said, and Thomas could hear him tapping away at his keyboard.

“You’re lying, dude! That’s sick!” Minho yelled, before quieting his voice. “Shit, sorry. Keep forgetting Tom-boy is in here. If it gets too bad, just let us know. I’ll make Tom-boy go on push to talk.”

“If Tom-boy can handle himself, Min, you should be the one to go on push to talk,” Frypan teased, his character doing another dance.

Newt started laughing. “If none of you can handle yourself, I will deafen myself and kick you all from the server. Good that?”

“You love me too much,” Minho mumbled, hitting ready on his screen. Thomas did the same, clicking about random buttons. Out of nowhere, his character started dancing what he learned to be the default dance, and both Frypan and Minho started laughing.

“Oi, cut it out. Leave his default ways alone,” Newt said good-heartedly, his character following suit with the default dance. “He’s trying his best and that’s all that matters.”

Thomas could hear Minho stretching from the other side of the room. “You love the defaults too much, Newtie.”

“Don’t call me that, ever again, Minho. Especially if you want that role back.” Newt’s voice was serious, albeit a hint of a smirk could be heard, even through voice chat. “Oh, yeah. Did you think up a bet reward?”

Minho had a way of being devious that sometimes scared even Thomas, who had known the boy for years at this point. “Yup. We’ll explain on stream so it’s more of a funnier reaction.”

“I’m scared for you, Newt,” Frypan replied, a laugh leaving his lips.

“Me, too,” Thomas said, for the first time in a bit. He knew he was being quiet, but he liked hearing his friends interact. It made his heart all warm and fuzzy, even if he couldn’t necessarily consider Newt a friend yet.

“Alright, alright,” Newt said, before a few more clicks happened on his end, and he continued, “Hitting live, now!” Thomas grabbed at his phone to open up the link one of Newt’s other moderators had sent in the general chatroom, making sure his phone was on silent as he did so.

The Twitch video opened, and up came Newt’s stream, a total of **6,000** viewers within the span of one minute. Thomas could see that his followers count want at **979,456** _._ And, wow. That’s so many people. Thomas had watched his fair share of Overwatch and Black Ops 4 streamers in his time and none of them, although popular, had that many followers.

The camera Newt had was pointed at his hands, pale, veiny ones that gripped his mouse tightly and were placed seemingly delicately on the keyboard. He had a sponsor of the month up on the screen, a small area for donations, and the rest was for his gameplay. Donations started pouring in the second the stream started, people begging him to show his face and telling him how much they loved him, without the boy even saying anything. It was _crazy_.

“What’s up, my beautiful gamers? How is everyone doin’ on this lovely Tuesday evening?” Thomas had forgotten Newt was British, seeing as it was only **3PM** over in New York. “I’ve some friends with me today, so it’s just going to be a fuck about, today. No sicko mode.”

Newt continued, voice cheery and light. “Some of my friends here you already know. Frypan and Minho have been on the stream a few times, Minho more recently because I killed him in a duos game and the bugger got pissed and yelled at me on stream. Our one friend, however, is a greenie. His name’s Thomas and I want you all to make him feel _very_ welcome. He’s a bit shy.”

The others took the time to say hi to the stream then, and Thomas did the same, feeling his voice give out a bit as he did. He hated his anxiety sometimes.

“Now, for those of you in the Discord, which, if you want to join, the link is in the description,” Newt said, a small laugh earned from them at the plug. “You know that our boy Minho here was, to put it likely, _deranked_.”

“Unlawfully,” Minho supplied, his character doing a _denied_ emote on the screen. “I demand a retrial!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Newt replied, and Thomas could practically _feel_ his eye roll. “We’re wagering a bet, chat. My side of the bet is that if Minho loses the challenge today, he has to stay deranked for a month and change his Fortnite username to **NewtIsMyDaddy**.”

“Fitting, since it’s true,” Minho whispered, quiet enough to make it seem like it was for Newt only but the chat accidentally overheard. Thomas knew he was playing it up. “However, I think _my_ part of the bet is more interesting, Newton.”

A laugh is brought from Newt’s lips. Thomas saw his hands flex at Minho’s words. “Do say, Min.”

“If I win, you have to give me back my role,” Minho started, causing Thomas’ eyes to flicker over to the Asian boy, who was leaning back carelessly in his swivel chair. If Thomas blew on it, it would fall over. “You also have to change your Fortnite name from **TheGlue** to **NewtOnYou** , which is essentially—”

“You don’t have to spell it out for them, Min. I think they get it,” Thomas said, exasperatedly, eliciting hard laughs from the others. He felt his cheeks heat up at that.

“Thomas’ virgin ears can’t handle things like that, Minho. Don’t do him dirty,” Frypan replied, making Minho snort and Newt choke on air; Thomas’ face turned into a ripe tomato.

Thomas groaned aloud, dropping his head hard on the desk; he knew it was heard on stream. “You guys are dicks.”

“Are you embarrassed, Tommy?” Newt asked, voice gentle but filled with tease. “It’s okay to be a virgin, mate. You’ll find a beautiful girl one day to have amazing s—”

“Stop talking,” Thomas begged, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m not even a v—”

“Sh, Tom-boy, you’ll ruin the illusion.” Minho was smirking at him across the room, sticking his tongue out at the red boy. “Thomas is so red right now, I wish you guys could see.”

“I bet it’s a sight,” Newt said and sighed, rolling his fingers around. “Alright, enough chit-chatting, lads! We are getting this victory royale right now. Ready up!”

“Uh, Newt. You’re the only one not ready,” Frypan reminded him.

“Oh fuckin’ tits,” Newt yelled, smashing his hand hard on the mouse. “Let’s go!”

 

They didn’t decide to do the challenge until everyone was warmed up. Newt was obviously the best on the team, better than Minho, Frypan, and Thomas combined. He carried them to several victories within the first hour, all of the other three scrounging to get kills. Thomas was just glad that he wasn’t the first to die every time and was able to keep up with Minho and Frypan, although his building skills were absolutely _terrible_.

Newt made fun of him for that at some points, to which Thomas wholeheartedly whined, “This is my third time playing the game. Cut me some slack.” To which, Newt did.

When it was finally time for the challenge, everyone assumed Newt had it in the bag. Hell, Newt _himself_ knew he had it in the bag. He was a professional player, and Minho played the game and raged for fun on a daily basis. There wasn’t really a comparison.

Except, Newt didn’t prepare for Minho to cheat. Well, not _cheat_ really, but he got inside help. Minho knew Alby, one of Newt and Minho’s mutual friends, who lived with Newt and Gally. Minho asked the boy to try and stream snipe Newt and kill him when the time came, and somehow, someway, Alby succeeded.

The challenge was whoever had the most kills in that particular game would win. They had set up some rules, but nowhere in the rules did it say that Minho couldn’t get Newt’s friend Alby to stream snipe him so Minho could get a kill or few and beat Newt.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Newt grumbled as he got knocked, Frypan and Thomas trying their best to make their way over to revive him. Except, Newt was killed immediately, and Thomas and Frypan got knocked by the same player.

“Shit,” Thomas whispered, watching as the guy instant-killed him and Frypan; Minho the only one left.

“Oh fuck this,” Minho said, using the rift in his inventory to try and gain high ground on the player. He was successful, and using his sniper, quick-scoped the guy and killed him. “Fuckin’ dick,” he mumbled, before realizing who it was and started laughing.

“I can’t believe this,” Newt moaned, and Thomas could see Newt’s hand come up so only his elbow was visible, presumably pressed against his face. “How did _Minho_ of all people beat me?”

Minho, still laughing, forced himself to quiet down. “You should’ve been clearer on the rules, man.”

“What do you mean?” Newt asked, voice gone tight.

Then, on Newt’s end, they could hear his door opening and someone walking inside. The voice was far enough away that they couldn’t distinguish what was being said, but as soon as Newt yelled out loud, Minho started slapping his knee from laughter.

“I fucking hate you all. You’re all a bunch of twats and I’m never playing this bloody game with you again.”

“Nooo,” Thomas whined, a pout on his face. “Minho’s a jerk. Don’t be mean to all of us because of his dumb shank ways.”

“Yeah, Newt. We had no idea Minho was going to do that. Mama Newt, what would we do without you?” was what Frypan said, Thomas having to stifle back a laugh.

It was quiet for a moment, before Newt started cackling, loudly, a gross but amusing noise nonetheless. “Ah, I guess Minho was right. It wasn’t in the rules, I’ll give ‘em that. Fine, Min. You win, you lucky shank. To chat, for those of you who are confused, Minho had my flatmate Alby stream snipe us and kill me so he could win. Alby went along with it because he sought it to be funny”

“Yes!” Minho yelled, fist pumping the air. “Hell yeah. Role me up, baby! Get that name change ready. Oooooh, I can’t believe I actually did it. Thanks Alby!”

“After stream,” Newt promised, readying up. “We have to get more wins, first. My stats are itching for wins.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ dork, Newton,” Minho grumbled, but followed suit by readying up, Thomas and Frypan doing the same.

“You love me all the same,” Newt said. Thomas could see the shrug and it had him grinning.

Maybe Fortnite wasn’t so bad, after all.

 

Hours later, the stream finally ended seventh win of the night, Newt carrying last game with thirteen kills. At times, Thomas didn’t know if he was proud of his new friend for how good he was at the game or extremely jealous.

He settles on the first, especially when Newt dragged the three of them into a private room called **thicc-bitches-only** began talking about his Twitch channel nearing a million.

“I’m excited, but nervous,” the British boy said, and Thomas could hear the nerves in his voice. Minho had left to go to the bathroom and Frypan went with Winston to one of the dining halls to eat. _“You’re not gonna leave me too, Thomas, are ya?”_ Newt had said, and Thomas didn’t have it in him to leave.

“I understand excited, but why nervous?” Newt was quiet for a few moments, so Thomas spoke up again, “Is it the face reveal thing?”

If Thomas was with Newt, he was sure he would’ve nodded. “Well yeah,” Newt started, voice laced with nerves. “I’m worried people are going to leave because they’re disappointed with how I look.”

“There’s no way,” Thomas said, surprising himself. “You’re probably terrifically handsome and you’re just one of those dudes that doesn’t see it. You’ll be fine.”

And, that got a loud laugh out of Newt. Thomas could hear the tension slip away as he spoke, “Ever the flatterer, aren’t ya, Tommy?”

“Flattery? Nah, man. Just being honest. You’ve got too good of a personality to be ugly. And even if you were, the British accent makes up for it tenfold.” Thomas smirked, taking a sip of the water bottle on his desk, throat suddenly dry.

“I take it back,” Newt grumbled, making Thomas laugh. “Stop laughing at me this instance. I demand it.”

“You’re a demanding boy, aren’t you? Somebody needs a hug.” Thomas takes another sip of his water, downing half the bottle this time, finally filling the quench in his chest.

“Mmm, hugs are for chumps. I prefer a smack on the ass and a tug on my hair. Keeps the boy down there happy.” Thomas could feel Newt’s smirk through the screen, and he wanted to smack him, albeit not in the same places Newt wanted.

Licking his lips, Thomas mumbled, “You are a weird boy, Newt. A weird boy indeed. Never change.”

“I don’t plan to, Tommy.”


	4. the smallest of victories mean something

September came and went faster than Thomas anticipated. His classes were delving into subjects that were foreign to him and took up more and more of his time outside of work and trying to keep up with the Discord he was now enamored with. Which, for Thomas, was _weird_. He wasn’t ever the type to make online friends, to have an interest in staying online for more than deemed necessary besides the occasional tweet on his Twitter and post to Instagram.

Now? He found himself going onto the Discord daily, talking rarely in the general chat and mostly in the private room set up for the highest of ranks, still wondering why he was allowed in there just for being Minho’s roommate and friend. There wasn’t any complaints on his side, though. He enjoyed the conversations more than he’d like to admit.

So that’s why one October morning, he nearly collided with one of his professors on the sidewalk in the quad because he was grinning down at his phone too hard. “Sorry, Professor Janson,” Thomas apologized, fairly quickly, his charming smile on his face.

‘Ah, Thomas! That’s quite alright. Don’t forgot your paper that’s due next week,” Professor Janson reminded him, eye twitching, and then he was off.

Thomas looked over his shoulder at the strange man, eyebrow raised, his jaw slightly slack as he mumbled to himself, “What is wrong with that man?”

Then, his thought strayed. The sky was clearer than Thomas had seen it in a while, blue cascading across each and every part he could see. His mind bubbled with ideas for conceptual art, but he hadn’t any of his supplies with him.

“Fuck it,” he said, detouring off of the sidewalk and onto the grass. It wasn’t wet or dewy and was warm out for October air, so Thomas was alright with shrugging off his jacket so he could sit comfortably on it.

It took him less than a minute to pull out his sketchbook and pencils he kept on hand, and he began to draw, letting himself immerse in it.

For a computer science major, Thomas enjoyed art nearly too much. If he could somehow create his app without all the coding crap involved, he would. Coding itself was somewhat fun to Thomas, but was stressful in every way sketching wasn’t.

Most people didn’t know Thomas could draw. His parents had never seen a drawing of his in their lives, too focused on Thomas’ ability in the sciences to see anything else. They were supportive in most sense, but if Thomas had ever said he didn’t want to study a science at college, he’s sure they would’ve flipped out and made him stay in Florida.

Florida, which, alright; it was way warmer than New York all year round. Had theme parks that Thomas loved going to ever since he was little. Was unpredictable when it came to the rain, but there wasn’t any snow, so that was a huge plus. He could wear shorts whenever he wanted; didn’t have to worry about his fingertips falling off or his nose getting frostbite. He loved it there.

However, he learned that he loved New York, too. New York and its unpredictability in weather all year round. Whether they were going to get a snowstorm in April or the weather skyrocket to 70 degrees F. All the quirky little restaurants that supplied similar but so very different food, wherever he went. The nightlife, which, Thomas wasn’t the biggest partier, but sometimes he liked roaming the streets and night and soaking in the vibe of the city. Central Park, which was one of Thomas’ favorite places to visit and to study when he made his way downtown and out of the college campus area. Columbia itself, a beautiful college that had dedicated teachers and some snobby students, yes, but overall everyone was genuinely nice.

Another thing he learned was that New Yorkers weren’t as mean as everyone sought them out to be, they just lived on another level than everyone. They were willing to help as long as people were willing to move at their pace of life; Thomas learned that within his first month here.

There were pros and cons to both, in Thomas’ opinion. Both had a home in his heart, now. He loved this city more than he ever thought he would, besides the snow. The snow could shove it.

A bird flying down to sit in front of him took him out of his headspace, eyes blinking down towards the drawing in his sketchbook. He had rough outlines and sketches done without meaning to, fingers having moved on their own accord. The bird walked closer to Thomas had him eyeing it precariously. “Good bird?” He tried, stupidly.

Said bird chirped, hopping up onto his leg. It was a baby bird, Thomas saw, flapping its wings excitedly as it walked along Thomas’ leg, beak poking at Thomas jean-clad knee at times. “You’re a little cutie, aren’t you?”

It chirped again, flapping its wings one more time before flying off, and Thomas nearly fell onto his back trying to watch it. It soared high, so high, back towards the birds in some of the highest trees in the quad. He waved dumbly at it, a small, genuine smile breaking free onto his face.

“I can’t believe I just waved at a bird.”

“I can’t believe I just _watched_ you wave at a bird.”

Thomas spun around from where he was sat, Minho holding up his phone with a smirk on his face. “Minho, don’t you dare.”

“Oh relax, Tom-boy. I didn’t record your face. Just your back,” Minho said with a snicker, uploading the video on what Thomas presumed to be was Snapchat.

“You’re such a shithead,” Thomas rebutted, rolling his eyes when his friend sat opposite him and dropped a bag in his lap, eyeing it a smile. “Alright, I take it back. I love you.”

Minho kicked at his leg, before dropping down to rest his head on Thomas’ thigh, staring up at the sky above him. “You only love me because I bring you food.”

And, because Minho hadn’t gelled his hair today, he didn’t smack Thomas’ hand away when Thomas ran his fingers through it. “Nah, man. I keep you around because you’re good looking too.”

“Calm down, man. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were trying to date me.” Minho met his eyes with a devious glint in them, his lips curving up into a smirk before his eyes fell shut as Thomas rubbed his head, gently tugging on a strand. “Kinky, I like that.”

“Shut up,” Thomas begged, not stilling his hand movement for even a second, scratching at Minho’s scalp. “Just, God, _Min_.”

Tilting his head down to stare at Minho, Thomas saw a smirk start to form on the other boy’s lips. “I remember you said my name like that once—”

“ _Minho_ , you shank. Stop it, please,” Thomas pleaded, his cheeks heating up, as he exasperatedly flattened Minho’s hair down, leg Minho’s head wasn’t leaning on bending at the knee.

“You’re too easy, Tom-boy,” Minho replied offhandedly, his arm reaching up to pat Thomas on the face, pinching his cheek; Thomas moving his head away from Minho’s wandering hand, who dropped it once Thomas was out of reach. “Like I said, too easy.”

Minho wasn’t wrong, either. Thomas was quite easy. Yeah, he’d hooked up with people before and had sex with girls, but talking about it and making fun of it was never his strong suit. He became a different person than who he actually was in intimate moments: a strong, confident human being that liked to make people _feel_.

He’d hooked up with guys in the past too, knowing he was bisexual since high school. The furthest he’d ever gotten with them was with Minho, when they were testing the waters back in high school, and all they’d done was cop a feel.

Intimacy wasn’t hard for him, per say. It just took the right person to bring that passion out of him.

Perhaps that was the reason why he was single.

“You need to live a little, man,” Minho said, sitting up from where he was perched on Thomas’ leg, hand flattening his hair back to perfection without looking. “Go buy drugs off the street corner or something. Buy a prostitute. I don’t know! Live homie, _live!_ ”

Thomas frowned, picking at a piece of lint on his jeans. “I’m living fine, thanks, dickhead.”

A groan surpassed Minho’s lips. “You know what I mean, shuckface.”

Not wanting to hear Minho’s speech about needing to live any longer, Thomas nodded at the Asian boy, shifting his belongings back into his backpack and hopping to his feet, ignoring the complaints. “You’re right, Min. I’m taking your advice. I’m going to go _live_.” With that, he walked away from Minho’s hollers and inspirational chants, towards the direction of downtown.

Might as well.

 

_You want a hot body? You want a Bugatti? You want a Maserati? You better work bitch.  
You want a Lamborghini? Sippin' martinis? Look hot in a bikini? You better work bitch._

Thomas was running on the treadmill at the college’s gym, sprinting more like it — long legs carrying his body over the moving conveyor to let off steam and feel the burn in his chest. The sting of not inhaling enough air fast enough and the adrenaline of it all, plus the acceleration of his heartbeat, was stimulating to him. The words to the Britney Spears song were easy to mouth along to, Thomas over exaggerating it a bit at times, pointing at himself when he sang certain lines.

_You wanna live fancy? Live in a big mansion? Party in France? You better work bitch, you better work bitch. You better work bitch, you better work bitch. Now get to work bitch! Now get to work bitch!_

The sound of his feet slapping against the belt was rhythmic even with Britney Spears blasting into his ears through his earphones, hoodie keeping in his sweat and tight shorts allowing for easier leg function. His bright pink trainers may blind others, but they were an asset in his workout routine. If he didn’t wear these particulars, then something would go wrong.

And then suddenly, the belt stopped. Thomas stumbled off of the machine, landing hard on his ass and frantically throwing his arms behind him to try and catch his fall, like it would help any He was aware of everyone in the gym’s eyes on him, so he closed his own momentarily to rid the worsening blush from his face, but it didn’t work. He reopened them, banging a fist on the ground.  “What the fuck—”

It took Thomas a moment to get off the ground, but when he did, he whined, wincing at the pain that shot through his body. “Fuck, I’m gonna have to take a bath when I get home.”

The entire gym was dark, machines turned off. The only light that poured in was through the windows and it was minimal, due to the setting sun. Thomas supposed it was time for him to stop his workout, then. He knew the college had backup generators, but didn’t feel like waiting and quite frankly, his ass hurt.

His phone buzzed, repeatedly, so Thomas lifted it from where it had been stuck in his pocket for the past hour, and saw it was Newt. Wait, Newt was calling him on Discord. What was happening? He shoved the earphones back into his ears from where they had fallen after his fall, swiping the call on while turning up the volume.

“Hey, Newt,” Thomas said as he began packing up his belongings, phone tucked into his pocket. The call had slight static, probably due to the fact that Thomas wasn’t on wifi.

“Tommy,” Newt whined, on the other end of the call.

“Newt,” Thomas copied him, whining back, a small smirk on his face. “As much as I don’t enjoy talking to my favorite British friend, what’s up?”

New clicked his tongue on the other end. “Favorite British friend, eh?” There were nerves laced in his voice, Thomas could tell, and wondered what for. “You love to flatter me, don’t you?”

“Flattery isn't really my thing, Newt. Honesty is.” Thomas nearly limped on his way out of the gym, stalking onto the streets and wandering down them towards his dorm. The sun was now barely peeking the horizon, reds, pinks, and oranges littering the lower depths of the sky. The cool air felt nice on Thomas’ all-too-warm skin, although the sweat began to dry and that wasn’t a good feeling. “What’s wrong, man?”

The sigh Newt let out into the receiver was a tense one. “I know I don’t know ya’ that well, but you’re the only person I’ve told that I’m nervous about the face reveal. I figured you wouldn’t mind if I called you again. Seem like a nice lad.”

“You’re right about that,” Thomas told him, turning left at the corner. “I don’t mind. Let it all out.”

It was like a dam breaking and water cascading into unwanted areas. “I’m about to hit one million on Twitch,” Newt whispered, a bit of awe in his voice but mostly dread.

Thomas tutted as he rounded another corner, his building up ahead. He debated on stopping at the McDonalds on the opposite corner to pick up food for him and the guys, but decided against it, especially after his workout — more so because he didn’t want to cross the street. “You’re still ‘fraid of that? You have no reason to be,” Thomas tried reassuring him as soothingly as he could, hand firm on his ID in his pocket.

“You don’t even know what I bloody look like,” Newt exasperated loudly, accent slightly thicker than usual. Thomas swiped his ID to allow entry into the building, smiling at the guard Tony and waving briefly, before taking the stairs up to the third floor, feeling lifted after his workout.

“You sound like you have the voice of an attractive man if that helps,” Thomas said as he used his key to unlock the door, toeing off his sweaty trainers as soon as he stepped foot into the suit. He could tell from the quietness that no one was there, or they were sleeping.

“Ta,” Newt replied, unenthusiastically, forcing a laugh out of Thomas. “Sorry, mate. I’m bein’ a shit. I know you’re trying to help, it’s just, _urgh_ , hard.”

With a roll of his eyes, Thomas said, “Shut up. Don’t apologize. Why’s’it hard, though?”

“I’m so used to nobody knowing what I look like. I mean, yeah, the fans have all cared, but they haven’t _known_. It’s one of the things I’ve kept from the public eye and now everyone’s going to _know_ and I’m fuckin’ shittin’ bricks, mate.” Thomas could hear the fear in Newt’s voice and suddenly he wished he were there with him, able to help calm him down.

“If you’re not ready, don’t do it.” Thomas’ words sounded inspirational in his head yet more dick-y when they came out. He trudged into the bedroom, throwing his sweaty trainers into the corner, tugging his headphones out of his phone as he began changing into cleaner clothes, opting to shower later, after his conversation with Newt was done.

“Not that simple, Tommy,” Newt said sadly, another groan surpassing the British boy’s lips. “‘M’a people pleaser. I have t’do it. It’s just the initial shock that’s getting to me.”

Once in clean clothes, Thomas flopped down onto his bed, shoving the headphones back into his phone. “I’m decent at conceptual art. Describe yourself, I’ll draw it, and you can put it on the screen in place of your facecam.”

A huff of laughter rang through his ears. “You and that head of yours. Such great ideas that I couldn’t actually go through with,” Newt paused, before continuing. “Oi, hey. What do you _think_ I look like?”

Thomas snickered, allowing the fan he had bought last week in the middle of a heat wave, in October mind you, to blow on him as he settled under the covers. He had to change his sheets and wash his blankets anyways, so even if his sweaty smell and perspiration settled into the bed, it wasn’t a huge deal. “Based off your lovely voice and personality?”

If eye rolls weren’t visual, Thomas was sure he had just heard one. “No, based off the dick pictures I sent you, you _minx_.”

Smirking slightly, Thomas murmured, “They were quite exceptional—”

“For cryin’ out loud, Tommy! Just answer the bloody question.” Newt wasn’t mad, amusement lased in his voice. He sounded slightly less anxious than he did a minute ago. Thomas could thank himself for that.

“Well for starters, I know you’re a lanky boy,” Thomas said, eyes slipping shut as he tried to envision Newt. Lapses of images from when he watched Newt’s hand fly over the screen whilst streaming faded into view. “You’re pale. Not in the Edward Cullen glowing vampire sense, but,” Thomas paused, eliciting a short _ha_ from Newt as his hand motioned about as if the other boy could see him. “Hold on, lemme google _what does the average British young adult look like_ , and I’ll get back to you.”

“Aren’t ya just the funniest?” Newt replied sarcastically, a breath of air lingering over the line. “I don’t look like your average bloke in London, if that’s what y’think.”

Pins and needles started to run its way up Thomas’ leg from his position, so he shook it out, frowning. “I don’t _know_ what I think, man. I mean, alright. I feel like you maybe look like the dude from that vine.”

“Huh, yeah. Wow. ‘That vine’. I know what you’re talking about. Keep talkin’, mate.”

Thomas felt his cheeks heat up, before he grabbed his laptop from his nightstand, opening it up and typing _youtube.com_ into the search box. “Shush your mouth, hold on, lemme—” His brain began to seemingly disintegrate the moment the website loads. “Shit, what’s the vine—”

Exasperatedly, Newt said, “Oh my God, _Thomas_.”

“Shush, wait, fuck. _Newt_ , stop talking. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Thomas smacked his leg against the bed three times, and then he remembered the vine. “Hah, got it! Okay, so you know the vine where the dude gets punched in the face and goes,” he stopped speaking to clear his throat, impersonating a British terribly. “ _Aw, fuck, I can’t believe you’ve done this_.”

Newt was quiet for a second. Nearly a second too long. Thomas thought he had said something wrong and was about to apologize before the other boy started snorting loudly on the other end, clearly smacking _something_ as he laughed. “I’ve got tears in my eyes, mate. _That’s_ what ya think I look like?”

“Not exactly!” Thomas started, in defense, making the other boy laugh harder. The corner of his lips turned up at that.

A guffawed sound broke past Newt’s lips. “And what do you mean by not exactly? Are you, dare I say, calling me _ugly_?”

Thomas couldn’t help the spluttering noise he made at Newt’s words, shaking his head poignantly. “No! _No_! I was just using him as a base! I feel like you have shortish, slightly curly brown hair. It probably reaches like… the tips of your ears? Blue eyes is a given, ain’t it? You’re British,” Thomas paused, tilting his head to the side as he thought. “I bet I’m taller than you. I’d say you’re probably like... 5’7”, max. You don’t give off tall vibes. I’d say a little bit of stubble, but you probably shave it.”

“Yeah, spot on. Y’really got me there, Tommy.” And Thomas really envisioned him then, sitting at his desk, bright blue eyes wide with a grin, slight stubble perhaps gracing his face after a lazy day, settled in a pair of jeans with a nice shirt — from the camera Newt had that recorded his hand movements, he could tell the other boy dressed nicely.

This brought a huge smile onto Thomas’ own face, “Oh. Have I really? Everyone tells me that I have this amazing sense of awareness. Maybe they’re right, I never stopped to actually believe them—”

Newt’s cackling brought him out of his rant, and he stopped talking, eyebrows furrowing together as his hands played with a thread hanging from his blanket. “I’ll let ya think that’s what I look like, shank,” is Newt responded with, and Thomas could hear the smirk.

“You’re a brat.” Thomas huffed out, grabbing the edge of his blanket and hurdling it over his face, hoping he suffocated in the material after realizing Newt was just fucking with him and he was very much so _not_ on the right path.

❀

“Tom boy,” Minho’s voice echoed from across the shop and over to where Thomas was wiping down the counter, name tag wrong as a new worker with the same name took Thomas’ before his own had come in. Thomas thought that he did it to bust Thomas’ chops, to try and be the _alpha_ , but he couldn’t be sure. He had taken to being George for the day, the seemingly never-ending day dragging on even longer than normal thanks to George going home early feigning sickness.

His boss was a bit of a pushover, really. He loved Vince, though.

Thomas sighed, throwing the towel he was using to wipe off the counter back into the bucket. "Hi, Min," he said, eyeing the outfit Minho has on. He was dressed smartly, tight black low-cut v-neck to show off, even tighter jeans that curved over his butt nicely. “Why’re you here?”

“Can’t a man visit his best friend at work?”

“Not you,” Thomas muttered, slipping back behind the counter, Minho following him to the front of it. He grabbed the usual for Minho, his pack of gum and an energy drink they kept behind the counter — for bizarre reasons. He scanned the items, slowly, to try and keep Minho there longer. “What are you doing here?”

“You already know,” Minho said, with a wink, placing a box of condoms down next to his usual, Thomas groaning at the idea off walking in on his roommate.

Scanning the items, Thomas stared at Minho, eyes squinted slightly. “Not at the dorm, correct?”

“No, you fucker. I’m not an exhibitionist. I’m going back to their place. Calm your old grandpa underwear.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, hands flat against the counter as he read Minho his total, voice dropping down to a deeper tone, all monotone. “$9.90 is your total, sir.”

Minho playfully rolled his eyes and handed Thomas a crisp ten-dollar bill. “Sir? Think I’m fancy, do you?”

“It’s a polite way to put it,” Thomas replied shortly, handing Minho his change. Minho eyed the store momentarily, before hopping up into the counter and patting Thomas on his cheek, snicking his energy drink open. “Are you trying to get me fired?” Thomas asked, only teasingly, knowing Vince loved Minho nearly as much as Thomas did.

Laughing, Minho leaned back against Thomas, so his back was pressed to half of Thomas’ chest. “Maybe; then I’d get to see you more,” he countered around a mouthful of cookie.

“You see me enough,” Thomas retaliated, mentally yelling at himself for melting into Minho the way he does, and it took everything in him not to bury his face into Minho’s shoulder, his smell intoxicating from being so close. “Go study or something, Min. Or play Fortnite if you’re really that desperate.”

"About that," Minho butted in, spinning around on the counter to look at Thomas. It was a bit maddening how close the two of them were right now, and Thomas stepped back a bit, busying himself with drying parts of the counter Minho’s butt wasn't occupying. "Fortnite, I should say," he clarified, taking a sip of his energy drink.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, glancing over Minho’s shoulder to make sure there weren't any customers. It was a Sunday, it was raining, and almost eleven in the evening. University students were usually the only customers at this particular _Duane Reade_ this late, and on the rare occasion some stragglers, but Thomas needed to be sure. _Customer satisfaction was a must_ , Vince insisted. "And?"

"Are we going to that gaming convention in Boston in March during Spring Break? Tickets just went on sale and I need to know whether or not I’m Christmas—gifting yours before Saturday tickets sell out.”  

“Wait, PAX East? The convention we’ve wanted to go to since we got into Overwatch _years_ ago—” Thomas was cut off by Minho’s excited rambling.

“—And couldn’t go to because we lived all the way down in warmer-than-here-but-way-more-boring Florida, but now since we’re up in New York and our spring breaks align with the convention dates this year, we might as well take a bus up to Boston and go to the convention.” Minho’s hands laid themselves flat on Thomas shoulders to gently shake the other boy in front of him, eyes lit up akin to a burning candle.

A frown forced its way onto Thomas face as he saw Vince stroll through the front of the store to check how things were doing up front, only to roll his eyes at Minho on the counter, “Get off the counter, slinthead,” Vince yelled, fondly, his blonde hair nearly falling out of its loose bun.

“Shove off,” Minho yelled back, but obliged, spinning around to hop off the counter and tilt his head in Thomas’ direction. “So, I’m assuming you want to go then, shank?”

“How in the fuck are we going to afford a hotel in Boston? Aren’t they hundreds of dollars a night for any of them within the city?” The door in the front of the store was opened, a few obvious uni students straggling in. They weren’t any of the usuals, so Thomas didn’t bother waving, turning his attention back to Minho. “I’m a poor uni student, Min.”

With a loose grin on his lips, Minho replied, “No worries. I’ve got it covered, man. All you need to worry about is spending money, and potentially gas money for our ride.” Not allowing Thomas to reply, Minho saluted him with a cheeky wink and jogged out of the store, leaving Thomas’ mouth slightly agape.

Was Minho messing with him? It slightly hurt Thomas, even though he knew Minho meant well. His inability to splurge on himself was known by everyone in their group. He was the only one, besides Frypan, that wasn’t heavily helped by their parents, so rent and groceries were his priorities.

Again, he appreciated the crap out of Minho, truly, it was that he hated feeling as if he was taking advantage of him because of his money at times, which he knew wasn’t true. Minho himself knew it wasn’t true, but it didn’t stop the feeling from resonating inside Thomas’ bones.

Ever since they were in high school, when his “friend-lationship” with Minho peaked, the other spent money on him like it wasn’t anything and never expected any of it back. If Thomas tried to hand him a dime, Minho would refuse it, laughing in his face and would wrap him up in a warm hug.

 _“Y’can’t be serious, man. You know I ain’t accepting that shit,”_ he would say, squeezing Thomas’ shoulders tightly.

 _“I don’t like taking money from you, Min,”_ would be Thomas’ reply, answering the hug back with a smack of his hand gently upside Minho’s head.

Minho would retort by hugging Thomas tighter and rolling his eyes. _“It’s not as if it’s hurting me at all. If it was, then yeah, I’d expect it back. But it’s not, so shut it, shank.”_

And Minho would end the conversation, forcing Thomas to end it too with that _look_ he would give him. Stern, threatening eyes that Thomas did not want to mess with, visibly recoiling at the last time he tried to ignore Minho by sliding the money he owed him into his back pocket and how it did _not_ go well.

Thomas’ phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at the clock on the register; it read **11:15pm** in bolded letters in the lower-right corner, and decided to whip his phone out, figuring it was late enough for Vince not to care much.

The notification on the top of his screen read:

**_[DISCORD][The Maze]_ ** _[The Homestead][Gallyleo]: @everyone he put that fuckin sign on our apartment door. sent me…_

A surprised laugh bubbled through Thomas’ throat at the words on his screen, and he quickly tapped into his phone, not bothering to read far up into the conversation, only where it made sense for the context of the notification.

 **[K-Builders][Gallyleo] @everyone** he put that fuckin sign on our apartment door. sent me a snapchat of it. guys help I don’t know how to feel [image]

The image read, in messily scrawled handwriting, letters overlapped a few times: _DOORBELLS FUCKED. SHOUT “OI CUNT” REALLY LOUD. CHEERS._

 **[K-TRACK-HOES][Brenda]:** newt you _didn’t_

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** proud to call u my big brother newtie

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** don’t think mum would be pleased with ur potty mouth tho

 **[Group B][Sonny];** ooh maybe I should send her the photo so I’ll be the golden child again

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Lizzy, don’t you fuckin’ dare.

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** wow, can’t even control ur sister newty-patootie

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Minho, you just got your role back. Are you playin’ for keeps, or not?

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe** ] **:** sorry mama newt **ily**

 **[Group B][Sonny]: yeah,** better be nice to me newtie :)

 **[Mama][Newt]:** For fucks sake, I’ll message ya privately then, if you’re gonna blackmail me.

 **[Group B][Sonny]:** well then my work here is done, cheers loves!

 **[K-Cooks][Siggy]:** I think there are actual tears in my eyes. minho look

 **[Admin][Minhoe]:** yup he ain’t lyin. fry is deadass crying newt

 **[Admin][Minhoe]:** what have you done to everyone

 **[Group B][Harriet]:** what did you do to my girlfriend

 **[Group B][Harriet]:** she came running into my room wheezing to show me something and now she can’t stop laughing.

 **[Group B][Harriet]:** SHE’S SHOUTING OI CUNTS OUT THE WINDOW NEWT WHAT DID YOU DO

 **[K-Builders]Gallyleo]:** to put it lightly, har, newtie is a dumbass

 **[Group B][Harriet]:** i can tell. he’s got his younger sister shoutin cunt at the neighbors. if we get kicked out newt im raiding your fancy apartment

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Stop making fun of me! This is ludicrous! I’m a bloody good person!

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** what in the fuck is going on

 **[Mama][Newt]:** Tommy! Tell them to stop bein’ little brats.

 **[Greenie][Thomas]:** i have absolutely no power over anyone in this server newt who do you think i am

**[Mama][Newt]: …………..**

**[Mama][Newt]: …………..**

**[Mama][Newt]: …….... >:)**

**[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** newt don’t you fucking dare

**[Bot][Newtbot]:** _[Mama][Newt] updated @GrieverSlayer#1234 to [S-I-C][Greenie]_

**[Bot][Newtbot]:** _[Mama][Newt] changed [S-I-C][Greenie] to [S-I-C][Tommy]_

**[Mama][Newt]:** You all wanna be minxes? Tommy’s your superior now. Bow down to him, peasants. He’s your second-in-command.

 **[S-I-C][Tommy]:** newt what the fUCK

 **[K-Builders][Gallyleo]:** annnnd here comes the pissed off minho in three… two… one….

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** newt hoW DARE YOU PUT THOMAS AS A HIGHER RANK THAN ME

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** also, eat my ass gally

 **[K-Builders][Gallyleo]:** when and where shank?

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** right here, right now.

 **[K-Builders][Gallyleo]:** i wouldn’t even poke you with a ten foot pole you nasty shank

 **[S-I-C][Tommy]:** is everyone just fuckin gay in here or what

 **[K-Runners][Minhoe]:** yea

 **[K-Builders]Gallyleo]:** essentially

 **[S-I-C][Tommy]:** cool beans i like everyone nice to meet you gays

 **[K-Runners]:** already knew that tom boy

 **[S-I-C][Tommy]:** no one asked you min _hoe_ , or should I say, lower ranked than me _punk_

 **[K-Runners]:** newt I will overthrow the hierarchy if thomas keeps his role

 **[Mama][Newt]:** My maze, my rules. Go back to trying to get Gally to eat your ass, Min.

The laughter that left Thomas’ mouth at Newt’s words, especially when Minho went offline right after, was worth the stare he got from Vince for allowing a small line to form at his register.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is all y'all get for now... heh.... lemme know what you think!! more soon :) (again sorry for any glaringly obvious mistakes ily)


End file.
